Sarenith 2nd, 4711

Right under their nose the whole time!

Following the tremendous battle in the inner heart of Cathedral of Blades, Haza,Torquemada, and Ramirez limped their way out of the smoky, blood-stained room, desperately weak and in dire need of rest.

As they backtracked through the underground catacombs, their worst fear was running into another significant force of Whispering Way minions, but their roundabout path remained clear and safe.

As they climbed up from the tomb from which they entered the underground, Torquemada suggested that they hole up in the vestry room above, instead of leaving the abbey grounds altogether.

They used some of the vestry’s furniture to barricade the door as well as cover the iron grate that led to the catacombs below, and settled in for an extended rest.

To their surprise, they were unmolested over the next several hours. Whether it was because their intrusion had gone unnoticed, or because none of the Whispering Way thought to look for the intruders in their own vestry, the time passed uneventfully.

Sarenith 2nd, 4711

Ambushed!

Early the next morning, the party prepared to venture back into the catacombs. Retracing their steps, the adventurers were once again taken aback by the lack of resistance to their exploration.

Had they destroyed the core members of the Whispering Way? Was the cult of necromancers vanquished?

As they moved back into the Urgathoan fly room, the answer became clear.

It was a trap!

Standing at the head of the altar, the lich alchemist seemed shocked at the sudden appearance of the adventurers who had tasked the Whispering Way for so long, but he was quick to recover and direct his followers to attack.

Embalming golems threw acid bombs while undead cenobites called down unholy flame strikes and slung death beams at the group as they hurriedly moved to defend themselves. The lich took to the air and shot green beams of acid breath from his mouth, catching Haza and Torquemada with it. The golems continued to press their attack, but were met by an enlarged Ramirez.

The battle was touch-and-go for the adventurers for a while, as with a double acid bomb attack, Haza was killed. Ramirez and Torque rallied behind their fallen comrade, and soon the moldering bones of the lich were cast down and he was destroyed, at least temporarily.

As they searched through the undead’s belongings, a strange ring caught Torque’s eye. Finely crafted and clearly highly magical, the silver ring featured a single flawless ruby set in the center.

Could it be?

Torquemada had heard of such rare magics, but never hoped to see it in his lifetime. If this indeed was a magical ring of wishes, Haza’s sacrifice would not have been in vain.

As Torquemada intoned the words of his wish, a powerful hum filled the air. Suddenly, standing beside Torquemada, whole and hale and ready for battle, was Haza of Sarenrae!

And somewhere in the dark, the lich Nalthezzar screamed out in impotent rage…

The Rescue

At full strength again, the party ventured into the rear of the chamber and through a set of heavy iron doors. The winding staircase behind led further downward, ending at another iron portal. The room beyond featured rotting gray ichor dripping from murder holes in the ceiling overhead and filling a massive pit with a vile, roiling soup of millions of maggots. A third set of iron doors beckoned beyond the pit, and a narrow stone walkway allowed egress around the pool of vile vermin.

The squirming pool was certainly an unnerving sight, but not as unnerving as the creature that rose silently from it’s depths and attacked the party!

It’s body is a writhing mass of squirming, slippery worms, the creature gestured at the party and in a clash of brilliant colors a prismatic spray cascaded over the trio. Torquemada was driven insane while burning acid and electricity tore at Ramirez and Haza resisted being turned into stone. As they turned to face this threat, the Worm That Walks lashed out with another prismatic spray.

Realizing they were outclassed, Haza told the others to retreat through the next set of doors, and as Haza followed them into the next room, he sealed off the tunnel with a series of_ stone shaped_ walls.

Satisfied that would give them at least some breathing room, Haza turned to see what waiting in this new area.

Black flames licked the walls of this huge ceremonial chamber. Three giant statues of Urgathoa loomed threateningly over stone pews and a processional leading to a black altar atop a raised natural outcropping. A dark pit boiling over with foul necrotic energy gaped at the far end of the room, and a writhing humanoid form hangs stretched over the well, stout chains tethered to each of its limbs.

A shrunken figure stood at an altar, it’s hands raised and singing the praises of the dark power of Urgathoa.

As he noticed the party, the chanting figures that filled the pews turned to face the adventurers. The gray, pallid countenance of Count Galdana stared back at the group from every face!

The battle was on.

Ramirez rushed the undead priest, but the Gray Friar was protected by an antilife shell, and Ramirez could not get close enough to engage in melee with the creature. Haza’s channel energies tore into the ranks of the undead Counts, and it was Torquemada who noticed that one of the undead chanters was seemingly unaffected by those positive energy bursts. He quickly surmised that this forlorn figure was likely the real Count Galdana, he maneuvered him out of the battle.

The party turned their attention to the Gray Friar, who moved forward to strike down Ramirez. But Torquemada countered by dispelling his antilife shell, allowing the fighter to get close enough to engage. Three gigantic blows from Giant Ramirez (who had enlarged himself again), cut into the priest, the final blow cleanly severing his skull from his body. The undead monster collapsed in a heap as the fires of unlife dimmed in it’s detached skull.

The Count had been saved!

But, unfortunately, the war did was not over.

As Haza and Torquemada tending to the magical wounds of the Count, he came to his senses and began to tell the party what he knew about the plans of the Whispering Way.

Count Galanda knew the noble, Adivion Adrissant well. Born to a life of privilege in Ustalav’s former capital city of Ardis, Adivion Adrissant seemed destined for greatness. His family spared no expense on his education, enrolling him in Caliphas’s highly prestigious academy at the Quarterfaux Archives. Handsome, cunning, and cultured, Adivion hungered for knowledge, but soon found himself bored in his studies, which left him dispirited and melancholy. The young scholar should have wanted for nothing, but by the age of 20 had dismissed structured academia as unchallenging, romance as little more than a distraction, and religion as a fool’s errand. Inspired by the nihilistic poetry of Krait, Perry, and Vhaags, the young man left Ustalav to explore the cultures of Golarion in hopes of staving off his malaise, only to return to his family’s holdings years later as disappointed as when he first left.

The Count had crossed paths with the man a number of times in Caliphas, but was shocked to find himself face-to-face with the man who was his kidnapper. The arrogant man took great pleasure in explaining his actions to the Count, and recounted what had transpired to bring the two men to this point in time.

Growing ever more morbid in his fascinations, Adivion began explorations into the hereafter; spending years acquiring dusty relics from forgotten museum collections, communing with spirits in secret seances, and delved into the study of necromancy, focusing his admiration on Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant. In researching the life and undeath of Golarion’s most wretched conqueror, Adivion felt kinship for a genius burdened by the weight of a worthless world, and whose supreme intellect and ambition allowed him to defy even death in the pursuit of reshaping Golarion into an existence worth experiencing. Soon, Adivion’s tireless research consumed him, and his acquisition of relics of the lich’s rule drained his family’s coffers. Well aware of previous futile attempts to physically liberate Tar-Baphon from his prison, Adivion sought some alternate path that might allow the Whispering Tyrant to return to the waking world.

Through his obsessive research, Adivion soon found that Tar-Baphon had sired at least one child while alive, and most importantly, that the Tyrant’s increasingly thin bloodline reached all the way through the millennia to modern Ustalav—and in fact, Count Lucinean Galdana of Amaans was a direct, living heir of the Whispering Tyrant.

It was on the return trip to Ardis that the seeds of inspiration—or madness—took root in Adivion’s mind. Witnessing a rite of metaphorical rebirth—the Procession of Unforgotten Souls—outside Kavapesta’s Cryptgate Cathedral, he struck upon the idea for a grand experiment. History had already shown that, when exposed to certain ideas, events, settings, and magics, Tar-Baphon had possessed the potential toreshape the world. What then would occur if a modern inheritor of the lich-king’s blood was subjected to the exact same ideas, events, and magics? Would it not follow that the heir would produce the same result as the ancestor? What if Adivion himself could recreate the Whispering Tyrant, and in so doing gaze into the mind of a force that rivaled even the gods? With such a dark muse—one indebted to him for its very existence—could he not emulate that same path to world-shaping might? Over the next several years Adivion launched fully into his experiment, courting the Whispering Way and seducing its leaders with the promise of the resurrection of their most famed alumnus. At the same time, Adivion delved into the blasphemous secrets of lichdom, taking the diff icult and unheard of path of researching not his own individual path to undeath, but another’s. After years of investigation, his delving, both scholarly and arcane, bore strange fruit: whispers from beyond death, a verse spoken from the spaces between death and the afterworld that formed the formula to an undying apotheosis, which Adivion dubbed the Carrion Crown.

With this knowledge, the proper components, and grim allies in the Whispering Way to assist him, Adivion Adrissant set his plan in motion—a plot to transform one of the lords of Ustalav, an heir to a profane legacy, into a resurrection of the Whispering Tyrant himself — and through the arch-lich reborn, to recreate Golarion into a world worth having a place in.

Sarenith 1st, 4711

Underneath the Cathedral of Blades

After a refreshing night in the pocket dimension provided by Father Christmas, Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez were well-rested and ready to continue their exploration of Renchurch Cathedral in search of their kidnapped ally, Count Galdana.

As they emerged from the wood-panelled hallway back into the fetid pool room, the archway behind them faded into the stonework, leaving only a solid wall in it’s place.

The acid fog that had last threatened them had dissipated and nothing emerged from the stinking waters that dotted the room. The party set their sights on the unexplored doors they had noticed yesterday, and chose to pass through the southeastern door. After listening carefully for indications that someone or something was behind it, they opened the door and discovered a passageway leading to a faintly-lit area beyond.

Moving cautiously, they found themselves entering a small natural cavern area that appeared to have been roughly worked. Dirty rugs and torn pillows covered the floor of this natural cavern, and a thick, heavy fog pervaded the air, glowing with a faint flicker of candlelight that carried with it an unusual stench of moldering chrysanthemums. Everywhere stared the mortared skulls of the dead. Lounging amidst the slowly-drifting fog, a half-dozen Renchurch novices in red robes lay, seemingly unaware of the party’s intrusion.

But it was not to last. One novice seemed to focus on the adventurers, and then he was screaming and pointing and they leaped to the attack. Unfortunately, whatever had created their seeming stupor also slowed their reflexes, as they were unable to mount any kind of effective attack against the party, and soon their bodies lay still and cooling on the floor.

Continuing on, the party came upon a large scriptorium. Ancient bookshelves lined the walls of this poorly-lit chamber, while a dozen haphazardly arranged lecterns stood in the center of the room. To the south, four large glass tanks topped with intricately filigreed brass caps held shriveled, mutilated corpses dressed in the shredded finery of nobility, each suspended in murky embalming fluid.

The party wisely passed on exploring this creepy room, and continued down a south passage, happening upon a barred iron door. Barred from this side.

Curious, Ramirez unbarred the door and cautiously entered the narrow passage he had revealed. It opened into a large, square chamber devoid of furnishings or decoration. The still air within the room was dry and carried the sharp tang of foul-smelling smoke. Ramirez immediately noticed the six dark robed figures standing motionlessly around the room, and held his blade defensively as the Bodaks raised their heads in unison, attempting to catch the mortal fighter in their death gazes!

Ramirez was staggered from their attack and went on the offensive, his heavy sword cutting into these otherworldly foes. Haza and Torquemada pushed their way into the room to assist, but were sorely pressed in the close confines. Waves of exhaustion swept over the party as the battle continued, followed by bouts of sickness that afflicted Ramirez. The bodaks did not seem to be the source of these attacks, but nothing else revealed itself.

With one last blow of his two-hander, Ramirez finally cut down the last bodak, and the weary party moved to leave the blood-splattered room. But during the battle, the iron door through which they had entered had been shut and barred from outside again!

Ramirez slammed his shoulder against the heavy portal, but it did not budge. Taking a few steps back, he tried again, but this time there was no resistance as the door flew open under his assault. He stumbled awkwardly outside and into the pit waiting just beyond the door.

He landed with a thud far below, groaning as the breath was knocked out of him. And then the walls of the pit slammed tight around his body, the heavy stone crushing into his body. Haza yelled from above, tossing a rope down and urging Ramirez to get out! He struggled to his feet as the walls receded and began to climb, but was caught halfway up again as the walls slammed shut again. He struggled on, scrambling over the top of the hungry pit as it slammed shut once more.

The party moved south away from the magical trap, bypassing another western corridor in favor of another that continued to the south.

They emerged into a larger room.

Smoothly polished skulls yellowed with age gazed from countless small alcoves perforating the stone walls of this chamber from floor to ceiling. The collection contained specimens from many races though all of the skulls were missing their jawbones, which lay on the lowest shelves beneath the skulls.

The party passed through the room, leaving the numerous skulls undisturbed.

The next connecting corridor led due east, into a chamber where rotting corpses were stacked like cordwood and rose halfway to the ceiling, threatening to collapse inward because of the path something had made, or rather chewed, through the pile. The stench of rot was overwhelming, and insects buzzed in the air like an oily cloud.

The party gasped on this thick, cloying air, but pushed onward, when something erupted out of a wall of corpses – an enormous, spider-like creature that had three clawed tails and eight legs connected by leathery webs of flesh.

Torquemada recognized the creature as a Qlippoth. Once rulers of the Abyss, the Qlippoths were overthrown when the souls of mortal sinners arrived and transformed into the first demons.

The creature rushed forward and attacked ferociously, and Ramirez fought off it’s ferocious assault while Haza and Torquemada struggled to penetrate it’s spell resistance. Then a cone of cold blasted into the party.

Then, as Torquemada maneuvered into a better position, he noticed something standing behind them casting a spell. It was apparently unseen by the others, but revealed by his see invisibility magic.

Torquemada lashed out at the creature, trying to catch it unawares, but it swiftly recovered from it’s surprise at being detected. It jumped back into the corridor and snarled at Torque:

“Well played, Inquisitor. But the battle is not yet over. Better tend to your friends, " intoned the werewolf-like spellcaster. And then it stepped back and dimension doored away.

Torque had now way to track the creature, and so returned to help fight the Qlippoth just as Ramirez went down under it’s claws. Torque distracted the monster while Haza healed Ramirez, who was quick to rejoin the fray.

This time, it was the Qlippoth who fell into the embrace of death.

The Urgathoan Fly

Undaunted, the party pressed on, leaving the piles of corpses and the corpse of the Qlippoth behind. They moved down a short corridor through a set of large double doors.

The ruddy glow of smoldering embers cast strange shadows on this chamber’s walls. Beyond, rows of cracked stone pews marble steps led to a raised dais encapsulating a large fire pit. Standing over the pit was an enormous iron statue of a fly; wretched screams echoing from within as some living creature was roasted alive inside the grotesque effigy. Large doors of iron stood in the wall behind the statue.

Three robed, emaciated figures stood arrayed around the fire pit, arms raised as they chanted unholy prayers in the name of Urgathoa, the Pallid Princess of the undead.

The adventurers rushed forward to rescue whoever or whatever was inside the burning iron fly, when trio of flame strikes came roaring down from the ceiling above, scorching the party. Ramirez staggered forward, attempting to charge the three undead clerics, but his rush was blocked as burning skeletons erupted from the fire pit to meet his attack.

Ramirez slashed his way through the undead skeletons, but the clerics continued their magical assault, and soon the group began to wither under the assault of powerful spells.

Then the iron fly moved.

The iron golem lunged forward and smashed into Ramirez, knocking him reeling. One undead cleric fell to Haza and Torquemada, but then the wolf-creature reappeared, blasting the party with another cone of cold.

The party struggled on against the three sets of adversaries. Ramirez went down, as did Haza, and Torquemada struggled to save his companions. Two clerics had fallen, as had the wolf-creature, but the golem proved tenacious. Finally, it also fell, crashing to the floor as the last undead cleric died screaming unholy prayers.

Weary, beaten, and exhausted, the party stood triumphant.

But what terrors remained yet to face underneath the Cathedral of Blades?

Desnus 30th, 4711

The Death Ray

The next day found the party returning once again to Renchurch Abbey – home of the Whispering Way cult and centerpiece of their grand plan to return The Whispering Tyrant Tar-Barphon to unlife.

Returning to the haunted church, Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez were once again greeted by cold silence and the feeling of watchful, but unseen eyes following their path as they headed through the ruined walls to the cathedral proper.

As they entered through the large iron doors, the faintest of whispers could be heard, as Torquemada was caught in a telekinetic grip and used as a weapon against his friends. The party was able to catch him and move quickly out of the foyer and the apparent reach of whatever haunted that room.

Cautiously, the adventurers moved through the desecrated nave, but nothing stirred as they proceeded past the tainted altar and stood outside the asphyxiating hallway once more. This time, the haunt was resisted, and the party pushed onto into another room, where they were greeted with an unexpected sight.

Compared to the decayed filth of the nave, this vestry was almost welcoming. Abused finery crowds the room, and heavy curtains, plush embroidered settees, rich rugs, and high-backed chairs basked in the warm light of a tabletop lantern. A large iron grate was set in the floor, a cool draft wafting up from below.

Before them stood the transparent spectre, behind which lounged a lady vampire – one of the minor nobles of Luvick Siervage’s Vampire Underground from Caliphas, Natisha Pavalanis.

The barely visible phantom appeared as a severely dressed noble with a tall, lanky frame, dead eyes, limp gray hair, and gaunt features. He greeted the party as they entered the chamber, introducing himself as The Chamberlain as he held forth his palms in a gesture of peace and warned the party against further trespass in the home of the Whispering Way.

Unfortunately, his words did nothing to sway the party, and they moved to attack. Three other spectres rose up from the floor and joined the battle. Natisha cast a fireball into the fray, targeting Haza, but the priest of Sarenrae laughed off the attack, his faith protecting him from the flames.

The spectres got in a few hits, their negative energy hampering the humans, but not enough to turn the tide of battle. As Torquemada cut down the Chamberlain, Ramirez’s blade cut deeply into the vampire, and she fell apart into mist and flowed out of the door – doomed to die before reaching her coffin back in Caliphas.

The party examined the iron grating in the floor, but decided to continue exploring the ground floor before proceeding further.

Moving out of the vestry, the party found another door leading behind the choir, and as Haza bent an ear to listen at the door, heard a long, low moan of pain coming from someone inside the room.

To action!

Ramirez kicked in the door, and the trio rushed into the room. A sliver of jet-black crystal pulsating with necrotic energy jutted from the stone floor here. A dirty glass lens set in an intricate but tarnished brass mount two feet in diameter slowly orbited the rock from several feet away, focusing the dark energies of the crystal toward four nearby chairs that seem more like torture devices than comfortable seats. In one of those chairs sat a slight man, skin sallow and dusky, who continued to moan as the necrotic beam flowed over his body again like a wave of vile darkness. Five robed figures stood nearby, overseeing the procedure.

The novices turned at the sound of the party’s entrance, but were unprepared for the strength of their assault. One of the novices attempted to turn the necrotic beam on Torquemada, but his death ward protected him, and the novices were quickly overwhelmed.

Torquemada freed the man from his bondage, and questioned him about his appearance here. He introduced himself as Cleves Drollac, a treasure hunter from Caliphas who had been captured and was being tortured by the Whispering Way. Something in his story did not sit well with the inquisitor, who after attempting to get a clearer answer, decided the man’s fate by cutting off his head as he sat helpless before him.

The group continued onward, entering the next room. Dozens of moldering relics littered this room, some haphazardly crammed into gilded display cases, others arranged with care and placed on tarnished stands. The group quickly searched the place. Torquemada discovered a bejeweled ceremonial headset that he took with him, but the group did not linger long and moved to the next room.

Ancient sarcophagi leaned haphazardly along the walls here. Stained teacups and cracked saucers were set on a low table, next to a matching teapot sitting atop a silver warmer. The gruesome remains of a desiccated human forearm lay on a small chopping block among powdered remnants of a bitumen soaked shroud.

Past this room, a small landing held a winding iron stair that led downward.

At this point, the party decided to return to the vestry to further investigate the iron grate they had seen earlier, hoping that it offered an alternative entrance to the catacombs below.

The Catacombs

Having moved the heavy grate out of the way, the group stood huddled around the dark hole leading down. It appeared to drop about 15’ and opened up into a larger, stone-floored room. Ramirez went down first, and the others quickly followed.

A single candle illuminated a large marble tomb beneath an iron grate overhead. The chiseled effigy of a simple foot soldier, rather than an armored knight, adorned the lid of the sarcophagus, and a gigantic sword, rusted and notched, hung from hooks over the tomb.

Wihtout warning, the bloody mutilated body of a slight-framed foot soldier manifested, his body impaled by several dozen broken, black-fletched arrows and wielding a massive rusted sword twice his size that matched the greatsword hanging near the tomb. The haunt screamed a silent war cry and attacked the intruders. The party quickly realized that their attacks were having no effects, and Ramirez made to grab the sword hung over the sarcophagus. He turned as the haunt attacked him, and was gratified to feel this new blade strike home, sending the soldier’s body back as it staggered in pain. Ramirez pressed his advantage, and as the soldier sunk to his knees, clutching his side, the figure suddenly disappeared and the air felt clear.

There was little else in the now-empty room, except for a small set of stairs leading out of the room. The temperature dropped to a cavernous chill as the rough-hewn stairs gave way to cramped catacombs. The smell of old decay emanated from dozens of alcoves containing broken skeletal remains, their eyeless skulls staring forward into emptiness with dead, vacuous gazes.

As the party tried to find their way in the many, twisting catacombs, they stumbled into a larger room. Torquemada noticed a faint sound of rushing water, when torrents of gray water littered with bones, dead flesh, and worms suddenly gushed out of the catacombs’ alcoves, creating an inescapable wave of water that quickly flooded the catacombs. There was a sensation of drowning in the churning waters, but the party resisted the haunt’s evil embrace. And just as quickly as the water appeared, it receded.

The group continued on, finding a wider passageway that led to a set of stone doors. They heard nothing, so cautiously opened them revealing a large room.

Irregular pools of fetid water marred the floor of this chamber like the exposed marrow of sawed bone, and a harsh acidic vapor burned the nostrils. Funerary urns sealed with thick red wax lined the perimeter of the chamber, and several more rested on a small island in the room’s center.

The adventurers moved into the open room, but nothing seemed to react to their presence. They began to move towards the two doors they had espied on the other side of the room when the attack came.

Two funerary urns flew up into the air over the fetid pools, smashing into each other and releasing two strange clouds of mists. Mists which appeared to be alive.

The evil elementals moved to attack as another pair of urns released even more Mihstus. As the battle was joined, another creature attacked as it rose dripping from a slimy pool. An Omox demon!

The party was hard pressed by the demon’s assault, as an acid fog filled the room, burning and choking the humans and the extra-planar monsters continued their attacks. Then Haza destroyed the demon with a destruction spell, and the Mihstus were quickly dispatched.

However, the group discovered that their original entrance had closed and was apparently sealed shut as were the other two doors. The acid fog still continued to eat away at them as they looked around for a way out.

The Christmas Room

Torquemada spotted the anomaly first. A small passageway beckoned from the side of the room. He was sure it had not been there a moment ago, but there were no other options at this point, so he led the party to the archway, revealing a wood-walled and floored passageway leading onward. The passageway was lit by the flickering light of torches or some other fire source ahead, and the faint smell of wood smoke, as well as hints of other scents, wafted on the warm air.

The passageway opened up into a square room, perhaps 20’ on a side.

The wooden floor was covered with lavishly decorated plush throw rugs, each depicting a winter scene – a group of figures ice skating on a pond, a festive bonfire scene on a pine-studded hilltop, and a rotund old man driving a sleigh pulled by northern deer.

In the middle of the wall to the right, a large fireplace stood, a cheerful fire burning in it’s depths. A small pot of gently simmering liquid (which turned out to be hot cocoa) was perched nearby, and an ample supply of firewood was stocked on either side.

The hearth itself was merrily decorated with pine cones, holly leaves, and sprigs of mistletoe. Three stockings hung off the side, bursting at their seams with oranges, apples, and other fruits.

Next to the fireplace, a round table and three chairs sat. The table was stacked with food – a baked pheasant, roasted prime rib, ripe round cheeses, fresh loaves of bread, and bottle of wines awaited.

To the left, three overstuffed couches covered with red and green pillows, blankets, and quilts sat next to a large wooden tub, obviously filled with hot steaming water, fragrant with mint and pine.

Against the far wall, a small wooden table stood next to the wall beneath a large portrait of the same rotund man featured in the rug. He was holding a large sack of toys in one hand, while the other was pointing to the table below. An engraving on the painting showed the title – “Father Christmas.”

On the table a small card read “Please take one. Have a Merry Christmas!”

Desnus 29th, 4711

Renchurch Cathedral

Having recovered from the attack of the hideous banshee, Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and the party retreated from Renchurch Abbey, returning to the rocky cliff area where they had camped earlier. Haza once again called upon the power of Sarenrae to stone shape a cave where none had existed moments before, and sealed the entrance behind them, preventing their discovery by the agents of the Whispering Way.

Luckily, their clever plan worked. The party rested through the evening, undisturbed by the festering evil that lurked nearby.

The next morning the party set out towards the Abbey once again. There was still no overt signs of activity this day, nor was there any evidence that their intrusion yesterday had been noticed. Even so, they approached cautiously, but nothing stirred as they entered the walls of the ruined abbey.

This time, the party decided to check out some of the other outbuildings before continuing to the cathedral proper. While many were crumbling ruins, an intact one near the gateway beckoned, and the party quickly infiltrated the grounds and entered the structure.

Inside, several gurneys and stained surgeon’s tables were pushed to the far corners of the main room. Broken scalpels, leech cups, and other bloodletting instruments littered the floor. A heavy, musky scent pervaded the stale air, and splatters of old blood stained the unstable walls.

Further investigation led to another room, this one empty but for a single, bloodstained gurney in the center of the room.

Suddenly, the image of a phantom monk with dozens of leech-cups applied to his torso appeared on the gurney. The monk then exploded in a torrent of bloody ichor and thousands of writhing leeches, which covered those present and began draining their blood. A wave of magical weakness swept through the run, as everyone lost blood to the horrifying haunt.

The party quickly retreated and decided to leave the building. As they left out of the front door, however, they noticed that the doorway was now bracketed by two withered and gnarled oak trees. Trees that had not been there a few minutes before. Were it not for the images of sinister faces peeking out from their dark gray bark, they would have looked like any other ragged oak tree. That and the fact their bare branches hosted several desiccated corpses whose rusted armor bore the faint remnants of crusader heraldry.

Before the adventurers could react, a roar rang out from overhead, as a large figure came hurtling down from the rooftop, landing with a heavy shuddering thud on the soft earth. This giant’s maw contains a pair of dripping tusks, but it was it’s gangly third arm that made its appearance truly bizarre.

The Athach and Quickwoods fell on the party, attempting to destroy these invaders in the lands of the Whispering Way. But these were seasoned adventurers, and no so easily dispatched. The evil trees soon fell to blade and spell, and the outmatched giant fared no better.

The group decided to press on to the Cathedral itself at this point. In the center of the monastery’s grounds, the cathedral of Renchurch sat perched on a scabby crust of crumbling rock, the black spines of its blood-soaked blades spearing into the stormy sky. The cathedral’s exterior walls were constructed in grand gothic style, but appeared ruined and even collapsed in places. The outer walls incorporated tens of thousands of broken blades into their construction.

Two massive iron doors constructed from hundreds of broken blades and ancient weapons formed the sole entrance into the windowless abbey. Ramirez led the way, pulling on the latch which easily opened.

Triggering the trap.

Silently and swiftly the heavy iron doors slammed forward, catching the party unawares and crashing heavily into their bodies. Luckily, it was not a killing blow, but powerful nevertheless.

A bit more cautiously, they moved forward, entering the redoubt of their foes.

The crumbled remains of a collapsed belfry littered the eastern side of the once-fine tessellated floor of this ruined processional, the shards of broken bells protruding at sharp
angles from the rubble. A half-collapsed archway revealed a massive congregational chamber in the darkness beyond. The faint hint of whispered murmurs pervaded the stale air like leathery bat wings.

A faint whispering could be heard in the still air, and as the party struggled to identify the words spoken, Ramirez yelped as he flew up into the air and began spinning around, crashing and battering into his companions. As they struggled to catch their friend, something landed on the floor of the room to the east. A flight of barbed arrows heralded the arrival of this new threat – a barbed devil!

The hellspawn tore into the group, as Ramirez continued to spiral around through the air helplessly. Finally, he was able to break the telekinetic grip of whatever had ensnared him, and he joined the fight against the devil, who quickly fell under the two-handed of the master fighter.

The party decided to investigate the room from which the devil had come. Inside, rickety wooden stairs spiraled around the inner perimeter of a tower. A huge bell of cracked bronze lay in the middle of the floor, long fallen from its mounts high above.

Ramirez stepped forward to investigate the fallen bell.

And then a ghostly bell appeared in the belfry, tolling doom for all who hear it with an earsplitting clangor. The shockwave swept over the party, tossing them violently to the floor and causing them to shriek in agony. And then it passed, leaving the group with bleeding ears and pounding heads.

Having had enough of this, the group decided to continue on further into the cathedral proper, and headed into the nave.

Hundreds of skulls decorated carved stone columns in macabre arrangements, casting their dead gazes over this empty chamber. High overhead, intricate buttresses like crooked bony fingers supported a massive vault, and the walls alternated between rich panels of aged wood and collapsed stonework piled floor to ceiling. A fresh, bloody smear stained the floor between the broken pews, leading to a chamber to the west.

Following the bloodstain, the group crept up onto a horrifying scene.

In the ruined sacristy, fresh bloodstains spattered the walls and floor of this rubble-filled chamber. A makeshift, bloodstained altar stood in the center of the room. Six voracious, bloated ghouls inhabited this chamber, feasting on the fresh corpse of a man seemingly dragged here from the back of the cathedral.

The creatures finally sensed fresh blood, and turned to attack the party, only to be met by the swelling power of Sarenrae as commanded by Haza.

Torquemada and Ramirez drew steel and attacked, but as Ramirez cut down one of the bloated figures, it exploded into a shower of blood and gore, covering the fighter in diseased flesh. Undeterred, he returned to the fight, and soon the undead ghouls fell to the embrace of true death.

There was nothing to be done for the hapless Varisian man, so the party continued their explorations, moving onto the choir.

Cracked stone steps descended steeply into this dedicated choir, which held a long table covered in the eviscerated remains of obviously humanoid corpses. A once-opulent bishop’s throne overlooked the choir from the east, its jewels and gold sheeting long plundered, and now covered in greasy, foul-smelling brown hair.

Waves of fatigue crashed over the party, and they turned to look for this new threat but nothing was there. Then an agonizing pain as the party’s skin began to shrivel and desiccate, as the moisture was sucked from their bodies from a horrid wilting.

And still nothing appeared.

Torquemada suddenly realized that their attacker was above them, and Haza cast light to see what they faced.

A meladaemon. A harbinger of death by starvation and thirst.

And then it swept down upon then, knocking the sword from Ramirez’s grasp and casting quickened magic missiles into Torquemada. The daemon moved off into the darkness, ahead of Ramirez, and grabbed his magic blade. It turned to face the enraged fighter and then simply teleported away!

And then it was back, attacking with scabrous claws and teeth.

The daemon fought to the death, cursing the mortals even as it was banished back to Abaddon.

But of Ramirez’s blade, there was no sign.

Haza suggested casting a Locate Object spell in the morning, and their next action was discussed. Finally, the party agreed to press on a bit farther, if only to see what was left in the cathedral.

Heading into the apse, the group spied the central point of worship in this dark church – the altar. This cracked altar smoldered with gray fumes; upon it were stacked foul offerings of bloody skulls, decayed flesh, and broken scythe blades.

Again, faint whispers filled the air, and Ramirez stepped forward, nonchalantly beginning to consume scraps of dead flesh from the altar. Torquemada and Haza were shocked, and exhorted Ramirez to stop, but he did not seem to think his actions unusual in any way. Finally, they were forced to push him from the “table,” and continued on into a nearby hallway as the evil whispers faded into the distance.

As with the rest of Renchurch Cathedral, this hallway was also filled with death and horror. Dozens of decapitated human heads preserved as crudely mounted trophies adorned the walls of this tall, imposing hallway. As Torquemada walked down it’s length, all of the heads came to life, their mouths gasping for breath. The party also found themselves gasping for breath, slowly asphyxiating in tandem with the haunted hallway!

Retreating now, the party backed out of the haunted hallway, and resolved to leave the abbey grounds for the day to rest and regroup. They returned to the site of their camp from the previous night, Haza once again using stone shape to create a secure cave for their protection and security.

Night fell across the Hungry Mountains as the party settled in for the night.

Desnus 28th, 4711

Renchurch Abbey

After the passing of the great black dragon, the party decided to pack up camp and look for other shelter. The dragon, while wounded, was still active and the possibility of it’s attacking again did not sit well with the team.

Torquemada let the way, searching through the dark and windy night for something that offered protection from the aerial menace. To make matters worse, a storm was rapidly approaching. And it was a storm unlike anything the part had seen before – a rapidly moving clouds with flashes of horizontal purple lightning.

Luckily, Torque found a suitable overhang, and the party hunkered down as the mortuary tempest came upon them, eerie lightning striking the nearby trees and ground. Haza quickly called upon the power of Sarenrae, walling off their area with stone shape, effectively sealing themselves off from the worst of the storm, and from the depredations of the black dragon, should it return.

Desnus 29th, 4711

The Knights of Ozem

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and the party resumed their trek through the Hungry Mountains.

It was a little past midday, when the group happened upon a small encampment in a shallow vale in the mountains. Four plate-clad men, bearing heavy weapons and somber expressions, warily greeted the party.

Their leader introduced himself as Sir Garvis Karst, Knight of Ozem. The order of Ozem was dedicated to Iomedae, and were pledged to patrol the wastelands of Virlych from the county of Lastwall. Torque and company introduced themselves and inquired as to the business of the knights.

Karst explained that the patrol was working their way up the mountain, in their usual manner, and happened upon a caravan of Varisian travellers. They were led by an old woman, who to their experienced eyes appeared to be a witch. They apprehended the hag, warning the caravaners, who expressed that the old woman was their ward against evil. The Knights of Ozem scoffed at this, pointed to the yellow-eyed twisted hag who hissed and spit at them as they took her into custody – explaining that the immediate threat was the witch. They sent the caravan on its way, with instructions to carry on to the border with haste, while the Knights returned to the Cathedral of Sancta Iomedae in Vigil for help in dealing with the witch.

Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez asked to see the witch in question, and were led to a nearby tent where an old women, with glowing yellow eyes, wrenched limbs, hissed and spat at the party from where it crouched chained to the ground.

Torque moved to question the woman, who seemed insensate, but then she reared back her head and spewed rocks from her mouth! She grabbed one and flung it at the inquisitor’s head, glancing off his forehead as she laughed.

Torque and Haza conferred, but the creature seemed to be something beyond their ken. This was obviously no witch, nor any other monster known to the group, yet something clearly was wrong here.

And then the answer was made clear.

The woman was possessed.

The group decided to try to banish the evil presence, and as they did so, a vile, yellowish cloud billowed forth from the old woman’s throat, and something materialized from the thick mist.

This human-shaped beast had a horse’s skull for a head, walking on cracked hooves and bearing the rotting wings of a carrion bird – a Leukodaemon!

With a howl, the daemon attacked, spewing a swarm of insects from it’s throat, and lashing out at the Knights and party. The battle was on, but the daemon was outclassed by the combined might of the Ozem knights and the party, and soon was forced to teleport away from the battle.

The old woman was grateful, but expressed misgivings as she explained that she had made a pact with the daemon for safe passage through the Hungry Mountains. The Knights explained her caravan had headed onward, and promised to reunite her with her people, as they started to break camp for their day’s journey.

The party also decided to move on, and resumed their trek up the mountain.

Desnus 29th, 4711

Witherleaf Barrows

The party moved on, and soon spied black smoke over the trees where the trail split. Discovering signs of wagon passage on the path, the group decided to investigate, and found themselves in the remains of an old village. In the center of the ruined buildings, a caravan of Varisian wagons burned, their inhabitants lying broken and burnt around the
remains.

With little warning, ominous clouds began rolling in from the west – another of the region’s haunted storms was imminent, lashing the party with a sudden burst of wind and rain as steaks of green began to flash by.

Haza created a shelter using stone shape, and the party hunkered down to pass out the storm, when glowing shrieking skulls began to wail and scream as they swooped down and around the party. With a wail of fear, Ramirez threw down his sword and ran screaming into the night…

At this point, Haza noticed the Varisians scrambling in fear from the nearby ruins. Apparently, not everyone had been killed. Haza remained behind to herd the people to safety as Torquemada braved the poltergeist storm to round up the fearful people.

Once assembled in the makeshift shelter, however, the people milled around Haza and suddenly rushed the cleric, overbearing him and throwing him to the ground, tearing and biting at him.

And the illusion was gone – these were no Varisian travelers. Or more accurately, they no longer were. No, now they were zombies.

Torquemada turned to help as he saw Haza fall, but was caught as an incendiary storm appeared around him – the unholy flames burning him deeply.

Looking around for this new threat, Torquemada spied what could only be a night hag, peering out of cover in a nearby building. The hag sent a stream of magic missles at Haza, who called upon the power of Sarenrae to burn all the zombies holding him down.

Torquemada moved to the attack, but two witchfires intervened, sending bolts of green flame at the inquisitor.

Haza meanwhile, responded to the hag’s attack with one of his own – a brilliant white glow suddenly illuminated the storm, and the hag’s scream was cut short as her body fell to ash, caught by Haza’s destruction spell.

That seemed to take the fight out of the witchfires, who were quickly dispatched by Torquemada.

And as suddenly as it started, the storm was over.

Renchurch Abbey

Once Ramirez had returned from his fear-induced panic, the group continued following the path up the mountainside, soon arriving at a barren plateau.

The ruined remains of old monastery walls broke from the dust of the Virlych landscape like jagged glass on a dirty barroom floor. Several guard towers reach feebly upward, their upper levels crumbling away. Only the sharp, bloodstained blades of Renchurch Cathedral gave any hint that the area is more than just a forgotten fragment of an earlier time.

The group warily entered the monastery grounds, circling the abbey proper in order to get the lay of the land.

A nearby stable was found to be occupied with nightmares, but the group decided that attacking the otherworldly beasts would likely draw the attention of others and passed up that opportunity.

On the western side, the group discovered the sole tower that remained standing, broken blades adorning its frame disintegrating into rust and discoloring its wall with reddish-brown stains. In contrast to these rusted implements of war, the stout iron bars of a prison cage rested within, a thick gate obstructing easy escape.

Suddenly, the party noted a presence behind them, and turned to see the spectral image of an elven woman. She nodded and introduced herself as Caelandlara, and inquired as to their business.

An uncomfortable conversation ensued, which was cut off suddenly as the ghostly woman suddenly rushed forward and attacked! The party responded in kind, but then the woman opened her mouth and began to wail! A banshee!

Ramirez fell to the ground, close to death, as Haza and Torquemada furiously counterattacked, striking down the undead spirit and rushing to save Ramirez from the clutches of death.

The party’s friend, Count Lucinean Galdana, now known to be one of the last descendants of the bloodline of Tar-Baphon, had been kidnapped to enact this plan. The Whispering Way planned to turn him into a lich – but not just any undead spellcaster. No, through the power of his bloodline, they intended to turn him into a vessel for The Whispering Tyrant himself. Tar-Baphon would live again!

Time was critical, so the party quickly set about preparing for their journey into the haunted land of Virlych.

The chain-bound steeples of Gallowspire—the stake in the heart of Ustalav—loomed over an accursed wasteland of shattered mountains and dark magic, a monument to an age of genocide and blasphemy. Spreading around it, tainted by proximity to the Whispering Tyrant’s throne, sprawl the scars of the arch-lich’s maniacal vision, a realm of ruin wracked by uncontrolled spell-storms and prowled by the abandoned miscarriages of unholy experiments. For the inheritors of this scarred age, Virlych bore more than just the wounds of history, for within its crumbling womb sleeps the architect of that dread epic, a deathless obscenity whose dreams still seeped forth to poison the world.

In the age before Ustalav became the killing ground of the living dead, the counties of Grodlych and Virholt stretched over the western arm of the Hungry Mountains and controlled many of the lands south of the Path River. Where Grodlych reached from the southern mountains to the coasts surrounding modern Vellumis, comprising much of the land now known as Lastwall, the smaller, rockier lands of Virholt spread southwest, continuing the border now guarded by Canterwall, halting at the shadow of the Fangwood. While Grodlych fell just as its sister counties to the east—and was ultimately ceded to the country’s liberators after the Tyrant’s defeat—histories hold that Virholt’s ruin was deserved, a price paid for betraying not just the nation, but the living. Although few texts recount the specifics, the count of Virholt bargained with the resurrected lich, selling his land and his people into slavery in return for his own salvation. What fate the traitor met remains mysterious, but many accounts indulge in baseless conjecture on fates just as torturous as that suffered by his realm. Much of the rest of Virlych’s history is actually the chronicle of Lastwall’s formation, with the Tyrant’s defeat by the Shining Crusade and the swearing of the protector nation’s oath to guard his grave-lands. Since then, the people of Ustalav have shunned the wreckage of their westernmost realm, the trauma of centuries past still all too real in the arcane storms, wandering ghosts, unholy ruins, and accursed creatures that brood and work the lich’s immortal will in those deadly lands.

Little lived in Virlych, though the realm is hardly uninhabited. While the eastern Hungry Mountains are known for driving rain and violent lightning storms, these take on a terrible aspect to the west, where twisted magical aethers imbue the harsh weather with seemingly malicious intent. Tales of living dust storms and lightning phantoms passed among those forced to travel near these lands, such apparitions sometimes being visible from miles away. Natural creatures did exist in Virlych, though the sparse vegetation and incessant storms make even the meanest beasts rangy and fierce. Small packs of mangy wolves, spiny beetles, feral rodents, and all manner of carrion birds scoured the land’s corpse in search of its sparse vegetation and trespassers slain by things with no need for food.

It was into this unholy land that Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez Saul would now travel, braving the worst the land could throw at them in hopes of stopping the Whispering Way.

A trip to Barragaro Road afforded the group the chance to barter, wheedle, buy, and sell items of magical power to the merchants in the crowded bazaar, always with an eye towards the threat that awaited them to the west.

The day spent, the party regrouped at the Silent Hound, silently eating their meal and mentally preparing for the journey that awaited.

Desnus 27th, 4711

Marian Leigh

The next morning, as usual, Haza was up at dawn, greeting the first rays of Sarenrae as she revealed herself in her glory. He woke the others, telling of his plan to use wind walk to speed their journey northwest, and hopefully avoiding any unnecessary encounters along the way.

Borne aloft on the morning’s breezes, the group found themselves flying over the land, soaring over the forest trees and rocky hills at speeds far exceeding that of any horse. The ground flew by as they sped northwest, leaving behind the signs of civilization and heading into the stormy clouds that seemed to hunker around the Hungry Mountains that marked the land of Virlych.

Haza led the party north along the ridgeline of the Hungry Mountains, whose slopes were currently wreathed in thick stormclouds – eerie purple lightning, probably the effect of residual necromantic energy, illuminating the cloudy skies.

Spying a small settlement, the party opted to land and camp for the night. The small hamlet only consisted of a handful of houses surrounding a large manor house, replete with vegetable gardens, greenhouses, flowering shrubs, and fruit trees. The party was met at the gate by the gardener Geb, and led inside to meet the landowner – Lady Urora Demerrval – who was glad to have a group of men stopping by for a visit. Apparently, outside of Geb, the rest of the hamlet’s inhabitants were all women.

Torquemada was intrigued by this, and questioned a number of the inhabitants at to this disparity, but came away with nothing sinister – only curious happenstance.

The party was invited to spend the night, and readily accepted – Ramirez spending the evening alone in the company of Lady Demerrval herself, while Haza entertained the scullery maid that evening.

Desnus 28th, 4711

The Witchgate

The next morning, the group said their farewells, and Haza once again took the party to the skies, heading due west now.

The ground below began to turn more mountainous, and Haza turned southwest to regain his bearings to the location of the Whispering Way’s remote mountain sanctuary – Renchurch Abbey.

With a wrenching feeling, the world spun around and suddenly the party found themselves somewhere else, and no longer in Haza’s wind walk.

Instead, they were on a hillside, surrounded by thick forest. A gem-encrusted arch made of bleached bones stood on a patch of scorched ground, surrounded by withered oaks. Sickly ravens perched on crooked branches, their hoarse cries echoing in the still air.

The party moved to examine the arch, but their efforts to detect any emanations from the structure were stymied by the overwhelming magic and evil that seemed to pervade the very air itself.

Suddenly, Ramirez screamed as he was hauled into the air, tightening branches from the nearby oak tree pulling him up into the higher reaches of the tree. With that event, the other trees also came to life, their lashing branches pulling and strangling everyone within their reach – revealing that the sickly oak trees were in fact, hangmen trees!

The ravenous plants attacked without mercy, tearing into the party before they had a chance to prepare, but the group wasn’t made up of novice adventures, but seasoned professionals, and they quickly rallied and turned the tables on the carnivorous trees. One by one they fell to blade and fire, and soon only the blackened trunks of the hangmen tree remained standing.

As they bandaged their wounds, the party took a longer look at their surroundings, finally determining that they had somehow arrived on the other side of the Hungry Mountains – perhaps waylaid by the mysterious gate that stood before them.

Haza had not prepared another wind walk that day, so the group set off on foot, heading in the general direction they thought that Renchurch Abbey would be.

The Black Wind

The party spent the remainder of the day heading into the mountains to their east, finally discovering a rough track leading higher into the mountain range. Night had started to fall before they discovered a suitable clearing for their camp, and soon they were bedded down for a night’s rest, with Ramirez taking first watch. A storm seemed to be brewing, and the winds began to circle and roar amongst the treetops, howling and moaning into the fallen night.

It was a few hours later that Ramirez noticed the bobbing lantern light gliding through the trees. He quietly awoke the others, and soon the group was silently (or mostly silently) following the flickering flame.

A few minutes later, the torch seemed to alight on the ground and stopped moving. Torquemada made the decision to approach closer, and soon found himself looking down at a small dancing flame. No lantern, no torch. Just a small fire burning by itself in the night.

And then the blast hit him, thick viscous fluid burning and scorching and melting.

As he sunk to the ground trying to get the stuff off of him, the others came running up to assist, dousing Torque with the contents of their waterskins and looking around for their attacker.

But there was nothing there. The only sound was the roaring winds up above, and the only movement that of the wind-blown trees.

Suddenly, everyone realized that they had abandoned their camp, leaving a lot of their gear and items and armor behind. The group hastily turned back into the trees, moving quickly back to the campsite.

Luckily, all was as they had left it – there was no sign anyone or anything had disturbed it.

Now, it was Haza’s turn to cry out in pain, as a row of glowing magic missles flew out of the treeline, slamming into him as he began to put on his armor.

The party turned to face the threat, but once again, there was nothing there.

More cautious now, Haza and Torque began casting light spells into the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of their attacker.

More spells were cast from the darkness, but wary now, the party was able to avoid their effects.

And then in a blast of cold, rotting wind, it landed.

Standing at least 15’ tall, the black dragon must have been at least 75’ long, it’s leathery (evil) wings expanding out another 70’ as it reared back on it’s hind legs and unleashed a stream of emerald acid at Haza and Ramirez.

Although hurt, Ramirez bravely charged the dragon, his enchanted blade biting deep through the dragon’s scales. But the dragon responded in kind, it’s claws and teeth slashing and tearing at the fighter, who fell under the massive assault.

But now, a fire elemental entered the fray, under the direction of Haza, freeing him to help heal their fallen fighter while Torque took a long-range approach to the fight.

And the distraction caused by the elemental allowed Ramirez to regain his feet and attack the beast once again, his weapons slamming home again and again.

Bloodied and hurt, the great dragon took to the air, roaring it’s rage into the howling storm as it flew over the trees, quickly disappearing into the darkness of night.

Desnus 24th, 4711

Beneath the Abbey

Having recovered from the harrowing events of yesterday, Torquemada,Haza, and Ramirez awoke to a cloudy dawn. Hastily, they dined on sausages and bread and made preparations to return to the Abbey of St. Lymirin.

They paid a quick visit to Barragaro Road for some vampire hunting supplies, and the trio set off north to the abbey, approaching the seemingly deserted structure from the riverside, intending to make use of the cave entrance they had noticed in their late night flight from the vampire Radvir Giovanni. Once they had arrived, however, the group decided to further investigate the spider-haunted shaft they had discovered hidden in the winery, and stealthily made their way up the cliffside to enter that outbuilding.

Preparing themselves to fight the spider swarm, Ramirez threw open the hidden trapdoor to reveal… an empty shaft. Of the spiders there was no sign, and the group quickly descended, expecting an ambush.

Pleasantly, there was no ambush.

The room beneath the winery was somewhat dusty, but there were no tracks in the room. A circular tunnel led north and branched to the west – both spurs ending in solid walls. A quick search by Torque found the secret doors in each wall, and the party decided to take the western spur first, emerging into a large ossuary.

Carved stone columns resembling angels with outstretched wings supported the ceiling of this wide, long chamber. Decayed bones and half-rotten burial shrouds spill out of ten five-foot wide alcoves in the chamber’s walls.

As they fanned out into the room, a voice ran out from the western end, calling out in greeting. A figure emerged from the shadows. Clad in breastplate and heavy shield, and wielding a finely crafted longsword, the man stepped forward. His armor bore the symbol of Iomedae which belied the vampire fangs that gleamed in the party’s light spells.

The man introduced himself as Halloran Idress, Holy Warrior of Iomedae (paladin), and explained that he regretfully could not allow the party to leave this room. Wary, but willing to talk, Torquemada spoke at length with Halloran, who would not budge on allow the party to move further into the abbey basement, but did seem willing to share information about his presence, and of the creatures who now infested the abbey.

Halloran explained that he once was a paladin of Iomedae, but was waylaid in Restoration Park while investigating the murders in Caliphas by the vampire Radvir. He believed that he had died, but awoke in the abbey having been turned into a cursed undead.

Radvir had apparently entered into a pact with two witches – Hetna and Aisa Dublesse, who were using the abbey as a headquarters while looking for the missing parts of the third member of their coven – a dead annis hag called Oothi, who had been dismembered and whose body the witches were reassembling to return to life. Halloran further explained that Radvir’s plan was to blame the vampire murders on the aristocracy of Caliphas, setting off a human/vampire war and allowing him the opportunity to destroy the elder vampires of the Underground.

When pressed further, Halloran informed the party that he was compelled to protect this entrance, and would have to attack if they left this room through the basement door. However, he had no orders as to the other tunnel entrance and exits. He warned that the witches were powerful, but also had the services of a blood knight – one Konas Esprillian – and that the witch Aisa had recently become a vampire herself.

When asked if they could do anything for him, the ex-paladin replied that he would like the chance to be redeemed from this undead curse, but explained that he would have to be freed from the witches’ compulsion and seek redemption at the Dawngate Memorial of Iomedae in Caliphas, after which he would seek the cleansing rays of the sun to end his life honorably.

The party agreed to return for him, and set off down the other tunnel, clumsily settings off a Symbol of Fear trap as they exited into a mortuary!

The mortuary lay empty and disused, covered in a fine layer of dust. A mural of a winged human woman with an eagle’s head covered the east wall – a statue of Saint Lymirin herself.

There was little to see in the room, so the party headed to the only other exit to the south, where a roiling fog was starting to drift into the room.

The Final Battle

Suddenly, a figure loomed out of the shadows to the south.

Wielding dual bastard swords and streaming blood from every part of his full plate armor, the blood knight Konas Esprillian charged to the attack! The knight spewed out an enormous gout of raw blood, nauseating Ramirez as it slashed at the fighter with it’s twin blades. Haza called upon the holy power of Sarenrae to blast the creature, when a wave of fatigue rolled over the party. As the blood knight pressed it’s attack, the air seemed to exit the room, and everyone began to suffocate. Clearly, something else was at work other than the knight, but of the spellcaster there was yet no sign.

The battle continued, and black tentacles appeared from the ground as Haza and Torquemada tried to exit the room. As they struggled to free themselves, the witch Aisa Dublesse finally appeared in the fog.

The vampiric witch blasted the party with a powerful cone of cold while the blood knight continued his attacks. The party was hard pressed until the combined efforts of Haza and Ramirez struck down the undead knight, and the group was able to focus on the witch.

The party was on their last legs at this point, but would not surrender to the evil witch. Weary, bloodied, and their powers and spirits exhausted, the trio fought on, determined to end this evil.

Suddenly the vampire monk Radvir was there, tripping Ramirez as he foolishly attempted to attack him as the monk raced by. As Ramirez’ body flew into the air, a powerful elbow caught him in his ribs, smashing him into the ground. As he struggled to rise, the monk’s foot lashed out and caught him in his ribs before he continued racing forward to pummel the cleric Haza.

The battle raged on, with Haza using all the power of Sarenrae to wear down the vampires.

Ramirez succumbed to his wounds, but the witch and monk were forced into mist form and blending into the mist. But the party was prepared, and recalled a sarcophagus hidden in the tunnels earlier. Haza recalled Ramirez from the brink of death, and they quickly returned there, to find the vampire witch fast asleep and healing.

It was to be her last rest, as the party quickly dispatched her, staking her and dragging her body outside into the sunlight to be forever destroyed.

All that remained was the capture of the vampire monk Radvir. Their search downstairs was fruitless, so they ascended up into the abbey proper to continue their search. They quickly checked the ground floor and then continued upward into unfamiliar territory, arriving in a large laboratory room.

With a manic cackling, the witch Hena swooped through the air on her broom and throwing lightning bolts at the party.

Another pitched battle ensued, with Ramirez and Torquemada being taken out of the battle, leaving Haza alone to fight the evil witch. But the power of Sarenrae was strong, and Haza slew the vile woman, rescuing his friends from her clutches.

Radvir’s body was discovered lying in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and the group wasted no time in staking him and preparing his body to be returned to the vampire lord Luvick in Caliphas.

A search of the abbey turned up the journals of the sisters, revealing their ongoing search for their sister’s body parts, most of which had been reassembled in an upper bedroom. The party fell upon the evil hag’s bone with abandon, making sure they would never be used to resurrect the annis.

The party also found research notes on creating a bloodbrew elixir, which allows vampire spawn to resist the control of their masters, and clearly one of the means that Radvir meant to use to overthrow the vampire lords of Caliphas. Notes written by the nosferatu Ramoska were also discovered, and referred to another vein of research dealing with the extension of life through magical and alchemical means, but the research was never completed.

Finally, the group returned downstairs to confront Halloran and explain that the way was now open for him to seek redemption in Caliphas. The ex-paladin agreed to seek such, and accompanied the party as they traveled back to Caliphas.

Desnus 25th, 4711

Justice at Dawn

It was nightfall by the time they arrived, leaving Halloran at the Dawngrace Memorial as they took the body of Radvir to the Vampire Underground, where Luvick waited in his grand hall.

“I am very pleased, mortals. And I thank you for your efforts. They shall not go unrewarded or unrecognized by my people.”

With that, the body of Radvir was taken away.

“If you wish to see the justice of the vampires, seek out the highest tower of Castle Stryithe at dawn.

You are dismissed."

With that, the party was led back above ground, where they met up with Halloran in the early hours and were met and escorted by vampire guards to the top of Castle Stryithe, where a struggling Radvir was tied with enchanted chains to a post.

As the dawn rose later that morning, one soul burned angrily with vengeful green flames in the emergent sunlight, while another peacefully was engulfed in pearlescent white fire.

As the party returned to their rooms at the Silent Hound, they found a heavy sack filled with platinum coin, with a note initialed L. S.

Later that day, another letter was delivered, this one written by Ramoska Arkminos.

It is my understanding that you are responsible for my release from Siervage’s custody, and for that you have my undying thanks. I now make haste to return to my home, but there is one final piece of business I must attend to. As promised, I will tell you what I know of the Whispering Way and their plans. I leave it up to you to decide your next step.

Upon further study of the sample of the elixir the Whispering Way gave me, it appears my theory that Prince Ordranti is the cult’s target was ill-founded. Instead, I’ve determined that the concoction is meant for someone else—Count Lucinean Galdana of Amaans. Judging by the components used in the elixir’s creation, the cult doesn’t just plan on transforming Galdana into a lich, however. Rather, it seems they intend to remake him into the most powerful lich this world has ever known—some sort of vessel for the Whispering Tyrant himself. I desire no part in such ill-conceived goals, and urge you to find Count Galdana before they do.

At this point, I am convinced that the Whispering Way has fled to their greatest stronghold, the fortress-monastery of Renchurch, in the haunted highlands of Virlych’s Hungry Mountains, ready to enact the final phase of their plans. Should you decide to venture there in search of them, I wish you good fortune.

Sincerely yours,
Ramoska Arkminos

Even more troubling, when the party attempted to contact their friend, Count Lucinena, at the Majesty Hotel where he was staying, all they discovered was a broken door and signs of a struggle in his sitting room. There was some blood, but a pouch full of coin was untouched, as were other items of value in the room.

It appeared that the Whispering Way had kidnapped the Count and were likely already on their way to the monastery of Renchurch.

Desnus 23rd, 4711

Of Wine and Witchfire

A gentle breeze wafted through the open doors of the huge dining hall through a wide foyer to the east. Wooden chandeliers with luminous candles hung from the ceiling overhead, their long ropes strung through the rafters and tied off on the eastern walls. Twin staircases descended from the north and south ends of the hall, the two stairs leading down.

Of the Glabrezu demon, there was no sign.

Slowly, the trio tended to the body of their fallen companion, Quinley, and moved to retrieve their weapons from a nearby table. Torquemada slowly started to survey the room, looking for anything untoward, but after a few minutes indicated everything appeared normal. The simple abbey dining hall was a simple dining hall.

Investigating the rooms to the west, the party first found themselves in a moderately-sized kitchen with a fireplace for cooking, numerous cabinets, and a large butcher block table set in the center of the room. A further search by the inquisitor found nothing amiss, so the party moved to the next door.

Ramirez opened the next door over, and stepped back as a thick, coiling, cold white fog roiled out from the doorway. The party was poised for attack, but as the fog continued to slowly pour out, nothing happened. A detect magic by Torquemada revealed that the fog was indeed magical, but seemed to be nothing more than a permanent or semi-permanent solid fog that had been magically chilled. Haza boldly stepped into the fog, and confirmed Torque’s analysis, as the room appeared to be a pantry for perishable items – meats, cheeses, fruit, vegetables, and the like. A thorough search of this room turned up nothing other than produce and other provisions.

Torquemada led the group to the south doorway off the dining hall, opening it and revealing a small workroom of sorts. A number of tables and chairs stood in the room, with sheets of parchment, quills, and inkwells spread around the tables. Most of the papers seemed mundane, but one item stood out – a large piece of parchment that showed a map of the abbey’s ground floor. A number of areas had been marked with a skull symbol – rooms that would later be found to correspond to the abbey’s bell tower, carriage house, storehouse, and winery. The group took the map and decided to investigate the skull rooms, starting with the closest one – the bell tower.

A set of stone stairs wound along the walls of the square tower. In the center of the roof, long ropes descended through a perfectly round hole about a foot in diameter – the abbey’s bell tower obviously. A quick search of the room revealed nothing out of the ordinary, and the party moved up to the next level where four windows allowed a modest amount of natural light into the second floor of the abbey’s bell tower. Stone stairs along the walls led both up and down, while two doors opened to the west and north. Otherwise this level was empty. Why the tower was marked with a skull was still a mystery.

The party returned to the first floor and decided to check out the remaining skull-marked rooms, moving through the entry hall into the storeroom off of the carriage house. This stone-tiled chamber was full of barrels, crates, boxes, and half-filled sacks of grain, but a thorough search again revealed nothing to indicate why this room was marked on the map.

Next on the map was the winery, and the group exited the main building and made their way to the outbuilding housing it. Three huge wine casks dominated the warehouse-like interior of this stone building, beneath a vaulted ceiling rising nearly twenty feet overhead. Four wooden vats lined the western wall next to a pair of double doors, and five smaller barrels sat on the tiled floor near a similar exit to the southeast. Smaller doors exited to the north and south.

Torquemada bade Ramirez to check the wine casks, and the fighter dutifully began opening the heavy tuns’ lids, making sure the wine within was “safe.” And it was, until he opened the final lid and saw a beautiful woman staring back at him from inside the cask. A beautiful, translucent woman that was wreathed in a sickly green fire…

Two other witchfires joined her sister as they attacked the band of adventurers, gouts of pale green fire erupting from their hands and engulfing Ramirez and Torquemada in their cold emerald flames. Haza lept to the attack, calling upon the cleansing fire of Sarenrae to aid their battle as the ghost-like creatures continued their attack. Now Haza was their target and even his near-immunity to fire was overcome by the creatures’ attacks. The battle raged on, with the party gaining the upper hand when one of the witchfires fell to blade and magic, and soon the other two were also destroyed.

Torquemada searched the building afterwards, and found a secret trapdoor that led down. More cautious now, Haza illuminated the shaft with a light spell, revealing hundreds of swarming spiders! The swarm quickly spiraled down and out of the lit shaft, but no one seemed eager to traverse that path now.

Let’s spend the night together

Frustrated by the lack of finding anything “skull”-worthy in the skull-marked rooms on the map, the party went to investigate the other outer structures on the map.

The vineyards outside of the winery were picked clean, obviously their harvest filling the casks inside the winery. A large stone well sat nearby in the shade of a grove of young apricot trees, but only clear, cool water was discovered inside.

“I hate this place,” said Haza.

Trying their luck on the shoreline of Lake Encarthan, the group went next to the nearby dock. A weathered flight of wooden stairs descended the bluff here to a small deck before continuing down to along wooden pier. A small sailboat lay moored at the end of the dock.

The dock and boat seemed completely ordinary, but Ramirez suddenly realized he was standing near a large body of water. With a scream, he turned and ran off the dock and back up the bluff. As the party turned to watch the spectacle, a sinuous form rose silently from the darkening waters and attacked Torque!

The spirit naga had surprise on its side and venom in its fangs, and made the most of the both. The party retaliated, and the snake-like aberration responded with a powerful fireball… that Torque adroitly dodged and Haza simply shrugged off. It took more than merely magical fire to affect a cleric of Sarenrae.

Now the naga was the one surprised, and the group pressed their advantage, striking down the monster as it tried to regroup.

But the damage had been done. The day was drawing to an end, the party was beaten, drained, and magically exhausted. They had to find a place to rest and recharge.

After much discussion, they decided that the best place for that was inside the abbey.

The abbey where the evil witches and their vampire ally were allegedly hiding.

The abbey filled with evil ghostly undead and demons.

The group decided to barricade themselves in the kitchen, with Haza using his Stone of Alarm on their door for additional protection. The fireplace was also blocked with furniture, and the group settled down to rest for the night, Haza taking first watch while Ramirez took off his armor and Torque settled down in his bedroll.

Night fell and Haza maintained his vigilant watch by candlelight. When he noticed the fine mist flowing out of the fireplace barricade, he quickly moved to rouse his companions, who hastily prepped their remaining spells while the fog solidified into the figure of Radvir Giovanni.

As the traitorous vampire fully materialized he glanced at Ramirez, ordering the burly fighter to put his armor on. Horrifying, he turned to obey, starting the long orderly process of donning his full suit of armor.

“Surrender now and I’ll kill you quickly. No? Very well then,” mocked the vampire.

Haza lashed out with holy power, but Radvir moved quickly into their midst, latching onto Torquemada and sinking his fangs into the inquisitor’s neck, as blood sprayed from the bite wound, even though he had protected himself with freedom of movement! Torque should have easily evaded the grapple, but no, the undead tatori monk held fast.

Torque tried to escape, but to no avail, as Haza continued to attack with prayer and spells. Finally, with a desperate surge, Torquemada broke free, but now the vampire turned on Haza, easily grappling the cleric and drinking of his blood.

Radvir released Haza, slamming him with negative energy and spun to do the same to Torquemada. The duo attacked, but although their attacks hit home, seemed to do little harm to the vampire.

But suddenly, he collapsed back into mist, roiling out through the barricaded door into the entry hall.

“He’s left to regenerate himself. How long do we have?” asked Haza.

“A minute or two at most,” replied Torque. "We need to leave now. Come on Ramirez.:

“I really hate this place,” said Haza.

Ramirez no longer seemed to be under the direct control of the vampire, and fell to tearing down the barricade as the others gathered their belongings to flee this place. The group rushed out the door, losing precious seconds as they debated the best place to go.

Finally, they settled on taking the boat back to Caliphas. Torque cast a remove fear spell on the fighter to temporarily suppress his water phobia, and everyone piled in the boat, moving swiftly further into the lake to throw of pursuit. In later tales of their exploits, this would be immortalized as the event that gave birth to the persona of B.A. Saul…

After a half-hour of looking over their shoulders into the dark, the group arrived at the docks of Caliphas, and swiftly made their way to the home of Abraun Chalest. Upon seeing their faces, the bleary-eyed historian quickly ushered them into the protection of his home, moving to put on a pot of tea and helping to tend to their many wounds and injuries.

Desnus 22nd, 4711

What waits in the dark?

Moving upwards from the basement area, Torquemada, Ramirez, Quinley, and Haza made their way through the main salon floor, opening doors, searching for secret doors and panels, and exhaustively searching for any further clue as to the designs and whereabouts of Radvir Giovanni… to no avail. Everything seemed on the level as far as the tailory shop went, but the party continued on into a warehouse area on the south side of the building.

Wooden rafters supported the ceiling of the large warehouse. A number of crates and barrels containing ingredients for dyes and other materials lie stacked throughout the room, creating a maze of pallets and boxes.

Haza noted that the ceiling above them was dark. Exceedingly dark. Even after casting a light spell, that area remained shrouded in shadows. Having had enough, Haza invoked the sacred power of Sarenrae, creating a nimbus of light that finally pierced the darkness lurking in the warehouse ceiling, revealing… nothing.

The party moved further into the room, trying to make sense of this puzzle. Why would someone cloak a perfectly normal ceiling in deeper darkness? As they continued to make their way forward, suddenly Ramirez started to float up into the air. The party watched as he continued his slow ascent, stopping about 15’ off of the floor. There he hung, suspended in air, as he looked around, turning his body to see if anything was in reach of this magical effect. However, he was simply suspended in mid-air, and there was nothing around him that he could reach.

Torquemada started to unpack a coil of rope, thinking that Ramirez had simply stumbled unto some kind of magical trap at this point.

Then he saw the demon staring at him.

The nabassu pointed a clawed talon, and a crackling burst of violet-black energy hit Torquemada directly in his face, the enervation critically draining his life force as he reached for his blade.

As the party moved to engage the demon, Quinley started to rise into the air also, struggling helplessly to overcome the magical effect. It was only later that Torquemada would realize that this and the earlier effect on Ramirez were telekinesis attacks by the demons.

The demons attacked the party with savage glee, tossing enervation beams that started to severely weight upon the adventurers. Ramirez and Quinley were forced to rely on missle weapons, and the appearance of a third nabassu demon seemed to weight the battle in favor of the Abyssal monsters.

However, the combined holy powers of the inquisitor and cleric soon began to turn the tide of battle. Even the appearance of a fourth demon was not able to swing the odds back to the evil outsiders, and soon their reeking remains lay dissolving on the floor.

After that battle, the group finished searching the main floor, finding little of interest. As daylight was quickly passing, they decided to quickly search the upstairs area before returning to the Silent Hound for the evening.

A shoe room was quickly tossed and left behind, leading the group to a series of apartments where they were confronted by six guards, obviously charmed thralls of the vampire Radvir. Torquemada quickly incapacitated the men with hold person spells, and the group was able to easily subdue and bind the guards. However, a search of the bunk bed rooms again revealed nothing of interest, so the party quietly made their way outside and through he streets of Caliphas back to their inn.

Desnus 23rd, 4711

The Abbey of Sante-Lymirin

The morning found the party back outside the Nobleman’s Stitch, however, this time the group headed next door to the furniture shop they had noticed previously. The shopkeeper, one Geb Dilbar, was quite talkative and spoke about how he had provided knitting needles for Radvir Giovanni for many years, yes he had. And the needles in question did in fact look exactly like those the party had found had been used to stake vampires during the killings.

Satisfied that all the pieces of the puzzle had been uncovered, the party decided that the mysterious abbey mentioned in Radvir’s journals was the next logical place to investigate.

Located a few miles north of Caliphas along the coast, the abbey was dedicated to Saint Lymirin, one of the first saints of Iomedae. A simple dirt road climbed the high bluffs overlooking Avalon Bay, and led to a two-story stone abbey connected to a squat carriage house by a tree-lined terrace. An adjoining bell tower rose sixty feet from its southern exposure, commanding a wide view of Caliphas to the south.

The group noticed a young stable boy near the doors of the carriage house, and approached him. Torquemada introduced himself and asked to meet the head of the abbey. The boy inquired as to the party’s business, and then disappeared inside the building.

A few moments later, he reemerged.

“The abbess has no time for beggars. There are no alms for you today. Move along.” said the boy.

Stunned by this response, Torquemada again explained who he was to the boy.

“I don’t believe you. Now move along.”

This time Haza stepped forward to confront the truculent boy, but to no avail.

“I told you beggars that you need to leave.”

Ramirez Saul stepped forward, drew himself to his full height and proceeded to do his best to intimidate the boy.

“Seriously, you need to move away from here. Don’t make me call the guards.”

The party was completely bewildered at this point, and the boy turned around, walked back inside the carriage house, and shut the door.

Flabbergasted, Haza suggested that the group try the main entrance instead. And why were they even entering through the stables anyways!

Knocking at the front door a few seconds later, everyone was much relieved when a portly man dressed in an abbot’s robe and frock, opened the door.

“Welcome to the Abbey of Saint Lymirin. I’m afraid we don’t have any alms for beggars today. Please go away.” He started to shut the door, when Torquemada spoke up again, explaining who they were.

Again, the abbot refused them entry.

Finally, Torquemada drew upon all of his diplomatic skills, and this seemed to register with the old priest, who grudgingly agreed to let them inside to meet the High Abbess.

“You will have to leave your weapons with my guards,” he intoned as six burly men moved forward to claim their arms.

The party was not happy with the arrangement, but finally acquiesced to the abbot’s demands, handing over their weapons to the guards, who passed them over to the abbot.

He moved over to a nearby table, placing the weapons down and picking up a mug, turned back to the party.

“You are incredibly stupid.

Kill them."

He gestured to the guards who immediately drew their weapons and attacked the weapon-less party!

The Glaucous Count

The party fought desperately against the well-trained guardsmen. While hard-pressed, the group was able to disarm a few of the fighters, and with new weapons in hand, were able to fight back effectively.

Meanwhile, the abbot drank deeply of wine and sat back to watch the fight.

The battle slowly turned back into the party’s favor. Four of the six guards were down, unconscious or dead, although the party themselves were battered and bleeding.

The abbot was now eating some cheese and grapes as he watched the pitched battle.

Finally, the abbot stood tall and gestured with a hand. A cold, cloying miasma of greasy darkness erupted from the middle of the melee, it’s unholy power burning into the party and guards equally.

The guards lay dead as the party reeled from the attack, and the abbot laughed.

Ramirez was the first to respond, charging forward and striking one of his most powerful blows… which didn’t even seem to harm the grinning abbot.

“Ramirez. Would you like to see your brother Ryszard again? I can make that happen,” intoned the priest.

Haza lashed out with a spell, only to watch horrified as the effect dissipated in the air.

Spell resistance.

Torquemada started to buff up with his spells, as Quinley moved to the attack, but his attacks were also ineffective.

“It’s not too late to save your brother. No? Not interested?”

Suddenly, the stable boy reached out and slapped Ramirez with an open hand. Blood spurted and a huge gouge appeared across his armor.

The abbot had turned into the stable boy?

That was not possible, though Torquemada, and Haza followed through with a dispel magic on the abbot.

This time his magic was strong enough to penetrate the spell resistance, and all stood in shock as the figure of the abbot turned into something… else.

A glabrezu demon.

Laughing gleefully, the demon tore into the party, lashing out with claws and pincers and spells. The party fought bravely, but were being slowly outmatched by the demonic monster, even though it had taken it’s share of bloody hits by this time.

Suddenly, the demon teleported to the back of the room, and offered a truce in exchange for 12,000 gp of gems.

“Pay me this, and I’ll depart this place and leave you in peace. Or perhaps one of you would be interested in seeing your fondest wish coming true?”

“Go to hell,” said Ramirez.

“Actually, that’s the Abyss,” corrected the demon.

The group rushed forward to press the attack, but the glabrezu laughed once more and teleported away once again, this time seemingly out of the room.

Whether it would return or not, the party did not know, but set around to bandaging their wounds and tending to their fallen companion, Quinley.

Desnus 21st, 4711

The Inquisition

As Torquemada and Ramirez (and Quinley) were taking their leave of Lady Evgenya, they were accosted by a trio of vampire enforcers, who happened to be escorting none other than their opium-crazed companion – the priest of Sarenrae, Haza. Having finally exhausted his capacity for drug-fueled debauchery (as allowed and conforming to all tenets and creeds of the sun goddess!), he had set out to regroup with the party. After encountering the vampires in Restoration Park, Haza was recognized as being associated with the humans “hired” by Luvick to investigate the vampire murders, and was promptly escorted to the Vampire Underground.

After catching Haza up on their findings, the newly reunited trio set off to interview the last of the vampire nobles that Luvick had recommended they speak to.

Desmond Kote was found in a large room nearby. A small shrine stood in the middle of the large chamber, centered on a statue of a horned man with fangs and bat wings holding a wickedly spiked flail in one hand. Beyond the shrine sat two long tables with elaborately carved darkwood chairs. Haza and Torque recognized the shrine as the Vampire Underground’s cathedral, being dedicated to the infernal duke Zaebos, whom vampires venerate as lord of arrogance, nobility, and perversion.

Clad in breastplate and shield, and carrying a wickedly spiked morning star, Desmond Kote hailed the party, focusing his attention on Torquemada, being a fellow inquisitor. After a few minutes of bantering, in which Torque and Haza impressed the vampire noble with their knowledge of the hierarchies of Hell, they got down to business. Kote had also been investigating the murders, and has collected the wooden needles found in the ashes of the previous victims. He had discovered that all of the stakes seemed to be of similar make, carved from furniture legs made in the same pattern.

He had no leads on the murderer(s) himself, but confirmed Lady Evgenya’s suggestion that the vampire spawn of the slain vampires were acting strangely, and agreed with her opinion that she might be the next target.

Taking leave of the vampire inquisitor, the group discussed what they had uncovered, agreeing that returning to Lady Evgenya and setting up a trap for the killer was the best option.

To Catch A Killer

The party returned to the salon of Lady Evgenya, and spoke at length with her again, requesting that she be the “bait” for their trap. She agreed in spirit, and took the group to a private backroom, where another Lady Evgenya awaited the group.

The real Evgenya explained that she had used illusion magic to cloak the appearance of one of her vampire spawn, and that she would be able to see and hear everything through the eyes of her spawn. The plan was for “Lady Evgenya” to be out hunting alone in Restoration Park. The party would remain nearby in hiding, and hopefully the killer would be drawn to the lone vampire noble and set off the trap.

It was agreed that the group would meet outside Restoration Park around midnight, and the trio left to return to the surface and prepare their trap.

Desnus 22nd, 4711

At the appointed hour, the group of adventurers was safely hidden amongst the trees and bushed in Restoration Park, when off in the distance, a lone figure clad in white finery appeared, slowly wending her way through the low mist that clung to the park grounds. “Lady Evgenya” silently glided through the park, looking for her prey, while the party waited in the shadows.

Time passed.

Just as everyone was ready to ditch the plan and try again later, a drunken sailor came stumbling into the park. The temptation was too much for the “Lady” to resist, and she immediately went into hunting mode. The poor soul staggered down the path, sloshing cheap whiskey from a bottle as he lurched his way to a tree to relieve himself.

The party quickly discussed the situation. They couldn’t stand by why a helpless human was slaughtered by the vampire, yet what would be the repercussions of attacking a vampire noble’s spawn?

As the group was poised to act, suddenly four black-clad figures materialized out of the mist, moving forward to surround the suddenly still “Lady.” The party jumped into action, rushing forward to engage the figures, who turned to face the new threat. Fanged faces split into leers as the vampire assassins attacked the party, while the previously paralyzed “Lady” turned to flee into the night. Blades clashed as the vampires fought with the party, and unfortunately the drunken sailor chose this time to realize that something was going on and came over to “assist.”

Torque and Ramirez did their best to protect the drunk, as he wildly swung around with his fists. As the tide of battle was turning, he finally struck home! Unfortunately, he ended up hitting Quinley, staggering the dhampir and knocking him nearly unconscious to the ground.

But the vampires were on their last leg, and with a flourish Ramirez finished off the last of the attackers, watching as it collapsed back into the mist from which it had appeared.

The Traitor Revealed

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” said the drunk, as he lashed out once more, punching Ramirez three times in rapid succession, rocking the fighter back on his heels as blood poured from his face.

The party turned to face this new threat, but the drunk was already moving in a blur. As he passed by Ramirez, he struck out with their blades as the opportunity presented itself, but things did not go as planned. Almost faster than the eye could follow, the drunk spun on his heel, tripping Ramirez. As the burly fighter windmilled his limbs as he lost his balance, the drunk struck out again, slamming his elbow into the fighter’s abdomen. And as Ramirez struck the ground, the breath knocked out of him, a foot lashed out, pounding into his ribs as the drunk continued to move. As he passed Torquemada, the inquisitor also attempted to attack, but as with Ramirez, was tripped, punched, and kicked in a blur of motion as the sailor continued his movement, running up to Haza and punching him in the face, grabbing hold of his collar as Haza’s neck snapped back from the force of the blow.

Torque realized that this was no common drunk. Looking closer, he detected a faint shimmer of magic present, and concentrating was able to make out the features underlying the illusion.

Noticing the inquisitor’s scrutiny and making the connection, Radvir announced, “And now you know too much. Time to die.”

Letting go of Haza, Radvir rushed forward, catching Torquemada with a wicked elbow as he locked a powerful hand around his throat and lunged forward, his fangs sinking deep into Torque’s throat and drinking deeply of the inquisitor’s blood.

Ramirez rushed forward with a powerful blow that struck home! Only, at the last second, Radvir pivoted around on his heel, thrusting Torquemada into the path of the two-hander as the blade bit home, cutting deeply into Torque’s back.

Haza lashed out with bolts of searing light, but the vampire seemingly moved like the wind, spinning and tumbling out of the way of the deadly beams.

The battle continued, and although the group was able to get a few hits in, Radvir seemed like almost untouchable. Only Haza’s judicious use of positive energy bursts seemed to really affect the undead menace.

And as suddenly as it started, the battle was over, as Radvir turned and ran off into the darkness. Moving as swiftly as a hawk on the wing, he was out of sight in seconds.

The group gathered their wits about them, helping Quinley back to his feet, and healing up their many wounds. They decided to immediately return to Luvick with the news, and headed back to the Vampire Underground.

When they arrived back at the vampire lair, they were escorted immediately into the presence of Luvick, who listened as they told their tale.

“Dawn is nigh, and Radvir likely has fled to his lair above – a tailor shop known as The Nobleman’s Stitch. Go and bring him back to me for judgment,” said the elder vampire lord.

The party left, and decided to stop by Radvir’s underground shop first, but found the building trashed and nothing of value left behind. After being directly to a nearby sewer access ladder, the group soon found themselves back in the streets of Caliphas, as the dawn light started to spread across the cityscape.

A quick discussion ensued, and the group opted to return to the safety of the Silent Hound to rest and regain spells before returning later today in the afternoon to investigate the tailory.

The Nobleman’s Stitch

One of the more affluent shops in Caliphas, the Nobleman’s Stitch was well-known for catering to the nobility and other members of the upper class to establish many of the city’s fashion trends.

Radvir Giovanni had a reputation for impeccable style and skill, and many wealthy customers sought him out for the latest fashions and outfits for special occasions.

The Nobleman’s Stitch took up an entire block in the heart of the city’s artisan district, just across the street from a furniture shop. A handful of long-burning oil lamps hung nearby from street poles spaced along the street. The tailor shop was two stories tall with signs of a basement present.

The group tried the front door, but it was securely locked. The windows next to the door were not as secure, however, as Haza smashed one and reached inside to unlock the doors.

A variety of wares are on display on numerous shelves and tables on the open shop floor inside, but there was no sign of life, or unlife.

The group quickly fell to searching the area, finding a series of steps leading below near some dressing rooms, and immediately descended into the basement.

The flight of stairs descended into the northwest corner of this basement room. The ceiling rose fifteen feet overhead, and several boxes and crates stacked along the south wall reached
nearly the same height.

The room appeared innocuous, but Torquemada soon discovered a secret door that led to a room filled with coffins and a large stone sarcophagus!

And what awaited in the coffins? Sleeping vampires perhaps?

Indeed, the coffins were indeed the hidden resting spots of a significant number of vampire enforcers. The group acted with cold deliberation, staking each one separately, before securing the body and taking it upstairs and out into the cleansing sunlight to destroy the vile undead once and for all.

Unfortunately, the stone sarcophagus was empty, only containing a lever that operated other secret doors. Behind those doors, were more coffins, but all were soon discovered to be empty.

Searching onward, the party discovered a dye room to the south. The stench of powerful chemicals overlaid by blood filled this large chamber. A large vat of pale yellow liquid sat to the north and three gaunt bodies, stripped and impaled with wooden stakes, hung from iron crossbars on the south wall.

The bodies appeared to be vampires also, and after much debate, the group decided to release the vampires by removing their stakes. As they did, the undead came violently back to life, but paused when seeing the signet ring of Luvick that the party held. Torquemada explained their situation to the undead who explained that he had been attacked by Radvir in Restoration Park and knew nothing else until he was revived by the party. He agreed to take a message back to Luvick for the party, and he set about helping them revive the other vampires.

After the captive vampires had left, the group resumed their search, finding another secret room filled with what seemed to be coffins, but turned out to be mimics instead! A pitched battle ensued, with the strange aberrations getting the better of the group initially, but the hardened adventurers tactics soon won out.

It was back in the dye room that a clue was to be found.

Radvir apparently kept an incredibly meticulous journal in a drawer in the table. The journal contained a list of not only the vampire elders he had targeted, but also the nobles of Ustalav he framed by falsifying evidence against them. The journal made it clear that Radvir was acting on behalf of Adivion Adrissant and the Whispering Way to help pave the way for the return of Tar-Baphon. The book also included several notes in individual envelopes from an Aisa and Hetna Dublesse.

These missives detailed ongoing requests for more vampire bodies to be delivered to the Abbey of Sante-Lymirin (a divine servant of Iomedae, and perhaps coincidentally, the patron saint of first blood.) in exchange for additional bloodbrew elixir. The journal included the abbey’s location and Radvir’s own musings on the witches’ intentions for the bodies. He believed the sisters were trying to create a potion for undead transformation, obviously working for the Whispering Way.

Desnus 20th, 4711

On the Trail of the Whispering Way

After the devils had been dispatched back to the Nine Hells, Torquemada called upon the power of his goddess to counter the effects of the Bone Devil’s poison on the two, while Ramirez worked to tidy up the Esoteric Vault where collateral damage had occurred.

The slow climb up the spiral staircase was exceptionally taxing for the duo after the pitched battle, for even though Torquemada’s healing magic had removed much of the poison’s damage, they were still weak and exhausted from that which remained.

As they emerged from the depths of the basement, Abraun Chalest came hurried forward.

“I thought I heard a commotion. Is everything all right?” asked the historian.

“Yes. Well, there may have been a complication or four.” said the inquisitor of Iomedae, “But everything is fine Chalest.”

“Did you find what you were looking for then?”

“We did, of sorts. We activated the gargoyle statue, and an illusion appeared, showing an old map of Caliphas with a location marked. Do you have any idea what building this could have been?”

Chalest examined the rough sketch of ancient Caliphas that Torquemada had made of the programmed illusion, and soon announced that he did indeed know the location – it was part of the Quarterfaux Archives, of which he was the curator!

He explained that the building was one of the museum’s older (and least visited) structures dedicated to the history of the former county of Grodlych, and had been in the hands of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye for over 100 years. He agreed to personally take the party to the museum tomorrow after the party had a chance to rest.

With that, the tired duo took their leave to return to the Silent Hound, and slept the remainder of the night in the dreamless rest of those who had fought the horrors of Hell itself and survived.

Desnus 21st, 4711

The morning broke with the smell of frying sausages and eggs wafting up from the common room below. After a hearty breakfast, with Haza still nowhere to be found, Ramirez and Torque made their way to the Grodlych archives, where Abraun was waiting for them. Unlocking the massive oak and brass doors, he led the adventurers inside, where four large rooms filled with rack upon rack of books, scrolls, and tablets awaited. There was no one else in the building, so Abraun left the pair to their own devices as they attempted to find some indication of the presence of the Whispering Way.

After much searching, the duo found faint magic emanating from that an ancient fresco in one of the displays depicted the first count of Grodlych, an excommunicated priest of Pharasma named Laudmeir Vandolmayne. The heretic was shown clutching a book whose cover bore eerily familiar, stylized symbols matching those on the moribund key carried by Torquemada. By setting the correct runes on the moribund key, Torque was able to release an arcane lock barring the secret stone door behind the fresco that led to a room below the structure.

However, searching the cramped, musty confines of the bolt-hole beneath the archives turned up nothing more than discarded, battered furniture, broken alchemical equipment, and a few scraps of paper hinting at the Whispering Way’s activities in gathering components for some elixir or potion, though none of these notes contained any specific information or clues as to the cult’s current whereabouts.

The pair seemed to be at a dead end, when a voice spoke from back beyond the secret entrance.

“Good evening. It seems I’m not the only one searching for the Whispering Way. But alas, it appears that they deserted this place some time ago. My name is Quinley Basdel, and I’m searching for my mother’s killer. Perhaps we might be able to assist each other?”

Introductions were made, and it was revealed that Quinley was a sometimes associate of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye in Caliphas, that his mother was a vampire(!) and had been recently slain in the (suspected) series of vampire murders in the city, and that he suspected that the Whispering Way was behind these events.

“The vampires of Caliphas might be able to tell you where the Whispering Way went. I can introduce you to them. Someone is murdering vampires in the city, most notably my mother. I have no proof, but I suspect that another vampire is responsible. The killer has been too selective, too successful, and too secretive to be a normal living vampire hunter. I want you to help me find this serial killer, unmask him, and bring him to justice.

“Vampires are monsters, unrepentant villains, it’s true, but they have found a niche in this country. When the Whispering Tyrant fell at Gallowspire, the vampires laid down their weapons and conceded the field in exchange for peace. Since the Shining Crusade, the vampire clans of Caliphas have maintained the status quo. Now Ustalav’s rulers hold court without fear of the Tyrant’s return and the vampires are left alone. But these vampire slayings could create an entirely new war in the city and across the nation. And in a war between humans and vampires, who do you think would win? And who stands to gain the most from that war? The only group who was adversely affected by the vampires and whose presence remains a enduring symbol of their failure in the Shining Crusade.”

Upon further questioning about the vampire presence in Caliphas, Quinley revealed the following:

“My mother was a vampire. I am not, though I have her blood. I’m not affiliated with the clans of Caliphas, but I do work for them occasionally as a free agent as I do for the Esoteric Order. And I know their leader, Luvick Siervage, an elder vampire who predates even the Whispering Tyrant. He rules from the Vampire Underground.

Long ago, the streets of Caliphas were raised to install a proper sewer. The ground floors of many of the city’s buildings became basements, their basements became subbasements, and so on. The vampires claimed some of these areas for themselves. I can take you there, but we may have to get past a few guardians on the way. Once we get past their guardians, I can get you an audience with Luvick. If you tell him you can find help find whoever’s killing his people, he’ll listen to you.”

All agreed that an alliance was in everyone’s best interests, and Quinley offered to lead them to the Vampire Underground that afternoon.

The Vampire Underground

Quinley led the group to the fastidiously manicured gardens and lawns of the city’s largest park – Restoration Park – in the shadow of Castle Stryithe.

The park was officially open from dawn to dusk, though there is was no closed gate to stop nocturnal visitors. Watchmen from the city’s constabulary could be seen passing through this area but they did not seem to venture into the park itself.

Inside a number of pathways wove through the trees and grass past a number of statues and other features.

In one part of the park, a life-sized alabaster statue mounted on a block of granite depicted the austere countenance of Sesasgia Caliphvaso, the countess who refounded the city of Caliphas after the defeat of the Whispering Tyrant.

A trio of seeming innocuous standing stones stood in the park’s center, although close inspection by the group revealed recent and somewhat extensive bloodstains on the menhirs themselves.

Nearby, another massive statue dominated a clearing, depicting Soividia Ustav, the founder of Ustalav, astride a rampant destrier with an upraised blade.

In the back of the park, tall columns lined both sides of a reflecting pool, commissioned by Ilmhost Vheist, a scholar and early leader of Ustalav, in the aftermath of the Shining Crusade as a reminder to the inhabitants of Caliphas of the dangers the nation has faced over its proud history. The tall columns along the pool’s south side were carved in the likeness of Ustalavic soldiers facing a menagerie of threatening creatures carved on the pillars on the far side, including Kellid barbarians, Belkzen orcs, werewolves, and the undead knights of the Whispering Tyrant. This latter group included both a headless dullahan as well as an armored knight covered in blood.

In addition to the reflecting pool, a large natural pool filled with water sat in the northeastern part of the park.

Finally, a large greenhouse filled the southeast corner of the park.

The Glass House was a massive structure, towering 40 feet tall, easily as high as many of the park’s trees. A relatively recent addition to the park, the greenhouse showcased a variety of flowering plants imported from warmer climes, and drew many visitors each year.

Huge glass windows stretched between the greenhouse’s iron frameworks, and small rise of steps led to a wide portico. Two massive pillars of stone supported a roof overhead and flanked a pair of ornate, gold-clad doors inscribed with sun motifs.

The group headed inside, the cloying humidity and heat of an active greenhouse filling the huge atrium. Exotic flowers, creeper vines, shrubbery, and even trees grew throughout the open space. A vaulted ceiling arched forty feet overhead, supported by four thick columns, while a stone-tiled path wound past each exhibit.

Quinley led the party to the left, looking for some access to the sewers beneath the city, which he said was the main pathway to the Underground. An unusual array of exotic plants dominated this part of the greenhouse exhibit, displaying every color of the rainbow. Their hues were made more vibrant by the backdrop of an enormous mass of cactuslike vines covered with white leaves.

Ramirez moved forward to examine the vines, when they suddenly stirred and whipped around him, pulling him into a yawning mouth of leaves!

The giant flytrap plant continued it’s surprise attack, grabbing Torquemada in it’s questing jaws as Quinley peppered the intelligent plant with crossbow bolts. The plant fought tenaciously, but would prove to be no match for the party.

And underneath it’s now-motionless trunk, Quinley spotted the object of their search – an opening leading downward into the sewers.

After healing up from the plant attack, the trio dropped into the sewers below and began looking for a clear path that would enable Quinley to locate the Vampire Underground.

A number of dead ends led the party back to the opening room, but suddenly, sharp stones were stabbing upward from the floor and vines were erupting in a frenzy trying to entangle the trio. A sudden blast of furnace-hot air came blasting down from above, burning everyone as they struggled to escape from the clutches of the vines, and then they were free and fleeing up through the opening… only to be hit by blazing bolts of lightning from the skies above, shattered glass scattering over the greenhouse. The party was under attack, and finally the attacker was revealed – a half-elf woman dressed in what appeared to be vines and brambles stood perched in a nearby tree. But not just a woman, as she grinned at the party’s plight – revealing the long canine fangs of a vampire!

Ball lightning and lightning bolts rocked the party as they shot at the vampire, but it wasn’t until Ramirez was able to down a potion of Enlarge Person and tripped her from the branch that the tide of battle changed. Even so, as she fell laughing under the blades of the party, hers was to be the last laugh as she dissolved into mist and fled into the night. Ramirez’s victory was cut short by the revelation from Torquemada that she was not dead, and in fact would be back in a few hours to enact vengeance, for such was the way of the vampire in cheating death.

With no time to waste, the group returned to the sewers, seeking to put as much distance as possible between them and the likely infuriated vampire druid. After a few more twists and turns, Quinley found a main passageway that led to the sewers proper, and would lead them directly to the Vampire Underground.

It was about thirty minutes later when the vampire spawn appeared, crawling on walls and ceiling and walking on the narrow pathway above the reeking sewer water. There were eight of them, armed with long swords, and they accosted the party, demanding to know why they should let them pass.

Ramirez was less than diplomatic, and the trio soon found themselves in a pitched battle against the undead creatures. Quinley was forced to retreat, when the vampire spawm had had enough and fell back, retreating into the darkness. Torquemada had harsh words for the warrior, and admonished him for making their passage harder than necessary.

Interview with the vampires

A half-hour later, the trio walked into what appeared to be a guard room. Four well-armed and armored vampires challenged them, with Quinley stepping forward to explain that they were there to speak to the leader of the vampires – the 800-year old Luvick Siervage.

Passage was granted, and the group was escorted through the sunked subbasement passageways to the audience hall of the vampire lord.

A grand promenade opened into a wide audience hall, decorated with elaborate tapestries and art befitting a royal of Ustalav’s ancient bloodlines. An immense throne dominates the far wall, while two antechambers stood to either side of the promenade to the east and west.

Well-dressed vampire nobles glared hungrily at the party as they approached a throne at the end of the hall. Upon the throne sat the vampire lord himself. He gestured the party to move closer, and spoke:

“As in the days of old, those of mortal flesh stand before me. Yet you do not cower like most who look upon my undying face. My servants tell me you came of your own free will, even with the knowledge that many here would feast upon the blood surging in your veins. But is it bravery you possess, or foolishness?

I respect your boldness… for now. Why have you come here, mortals?”

Torquemada stepped forward and explained why they had come, as Luvick listened through his story.

" I am no friend of the Whispering Way," the vampire Lord concluded, " and I would prefer to see the Whispering Tyrant remain confined in Gallowspire, as he has been these last fourscore decades. If you find me the killer, I will tell you what I know of this cult, and where they might have gone."

When asked about his current knowledge of the murders, Luvick replied, “My people are being killed — what more do I need to know? My agents are still gathering information, but in truth, we know little. We have someone in custody, a nosferatu named Ramoska Arkminos. He claims to have nothing to do with the slayings, but that one has played a mysterious game for many years. In addition, one of my retainers has acquired evidence suggesting that Caliphas’s nobility are behind these attacks. Perhaps the two are related.”

He continued on, "I grant you permission to interview your people and see this evidence. Speak with Lady Evgenya — she knew many of the victims, and is convinced that she is next. Her apartments lie west of here. Desmond Kote, in the cathedral to the north, may have some insight, as well. If you wish to see the evidence we have gathered so far, speak to my retainer Radvir Giovanni in his store to the east. Ramoska Arkminos is being held in the old pump room, also to the east. You can question him as well, if you wish, though I doubt you’ll get any more out of him than we have.

“Take this signet—any vampire who sees it will know you are my creatures, and leave you unharmed. But take care — vampires are a fractious lot, and even my most loyal subject would not hesitate to drain your blood if provoked. Remember always that to them you are prey, and show them the respect accorded to predators.

“I demand only one thing. When you find this killer, you bring it to me. Anyone who strikes down vampire elders will face judgment from one as well.”

With that, they were dismissed and set off to question the other vampires.

First visited was the tailor Radvir Giovanni in his shop to the east. He explained that he believed that the human nobles of Caliphas were hunting down vampire elders, and revealed a number of documents purportedly taken from several minor members of Caliphas’s aristocracy. These missives identify specific vampire elders and their lairs, and commissioned their deaths in an attempt to deprive the vampires of leadership. Radvir claimed to believe that it was the nosferatu Ramoska Arkminos, who was indeed a known servant of one of Ustalav’s nobles, that was contracted to carry out the killings.

The trio thanked the vampire for his help and made their way to the cell containing Ramoska Arkminos. He looked up from where he sat as they entered the room.

“Good evening. More of Luvick’s spawn, are you, come to gloat some more? No, I can see you’re no vampires. His loyal slaves, then, fawning over ‘His Grace’ while your true minds scream silently and helplessly inside.

No? Then what business do you have with me?

Perhaps you came to free me. If so, I can assure you I would be most grateful.”

Introducing themselves, the nosferatu spoke freely.

“I am Ramoska Arkminos, a servant of the count of Varno.”

“Why are you here?” demanded the inquisitor.

“Luvick Siervage suspects I might have something to do with the murders of vampires in the city, but he is sadly mistaken.”

“Why does Luvick suspect you?”

“He is scared. And my kind and his, though similar in some ways, are actually quite different. I am an outsider who serves a powerful master, and Luvick feels threatened by this. He needs a scapegoat, and I fit the role well. I suspect my recent work with the Whispering Way might have something to do with it as well.”

And just what is your relationship with the Whispering Way?"

“I am both a student of the arcane and an alchemist by trade. The Whispering Way hired me to test the potency of a potion they’re creating, a powerful admixture providing a path to lichdom. I hasten to add that I am no supporter of their goals, but the opportunity to test my expertise on such a concoction proved too enticing to resist.”

“Why do they want such a potion?”

“Obviously, they mean to administer it to someone. Judging by the formula I studied, someone of great importance, as it was crafted for a specific person. My personal favorite for the potion’s recipient is Prince Aduard Ordranti, ruler of all Ustalav.

I do not believe the cultists created this elixir at the prince’s request. It’s meant to poison someone, to force such a transformation, even against the unwilling. You could save him, or whoever it’s meant for, if you help me.

“I am an innocent man. If you clear my name by finding the real vampire murderer, I’ll tell you all I know of the Whispering Way and their recent activity. I’m sure you already know that they’ve left Caliphas. I can tell you where they’ve gone, and perhaps study the sample of their elixir in more detail to see if I can find anything more. All I learn I’ll share with you.”

The celebratory strains of lutes and harpsichords filled the air in this well-appointed, if ostentatious, chamber. Several figures dressed in finery befitting nobles of Ustalav’s ancient past danced on a parquet floor.

Lady Evgenya was as haughty as her namesake suggested, but grudgingly she revealed her thoughts to the party. She was clearly upset by the vampire slayings, as many of her friends had fallen victim to the murderer. She’d noticed several things about the murders, however. One thing that the victims all had in common is that they each controlled large numbers of enslaved spawn. These spawn, now freed by their masters’ deaths, have been acting strangely — almost as if they had a new master, though she has no idea who that might be. Given the size of her own undead court, Lady Evgenya suspected the murderer will soon come for her as well. In addition, Lady Evgenya believed she has found a pattern in the slayings — namely, that many of the victims have disappeared after hunting in Restoration Park, which has led many vampires to avoid that area in fear of attracting attention to themselves.

Thanking her for her assistance, the trio left her salon and headed off to their next interview with a vampire.

Desnus 14th, 4711

Barragaro Road

After the events that occurred at the Seventh Eye, the party quickly regathered their wits about them, stepping outside of their private dining room and Ramirez accosting one of the servants.

“We need to speak with Dr. Low, now.”

“I’m afraid he’s retired for the evening sir,” said the waiter.

“I think you misunderstood me. I said NOW.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s not here.”

“He doesn’t know where he is,” stated Torquemada. “Let it go and we’ll get out of here.”

With that, the group gathered themselves and exited the Seventh Eye, heading back east to their rooms at the Silent Hound. Ephraim, shaken by the night’s events also, took his leave of the party, stating that he had all the information he needed for his report. He bade the others farewell, and stated that should they ever need his assistance again, to please contact someone else! And when that person wisely refused, to call upon him instead. The parting was another bittersweet flavor added to a distasteful evening.

As they continued on, Torquemada inquired, “Haza? Are you familiar at all with Urgathoa?”

“A passing familiarity. Why?” asked the Osirian priest.

“Just a feeling, " replied the inquisitor.

Silence fell after that exchange, and lasted throughout the journey through the dimly-lit streets of Caliphas. Returning to their inn, the adventurers headed off into their individual rooms, soon falling into the deep embrace of sleep. If they dreamt of their encounter with The Lady in Red that night, none remembered those dreams the next morning.

Desnus 15th, 4711

The next few days were spent in rest and recreation, as the group had not been in the welcoming arms of a major city in a number of months. The party was directed to Barragaro Road.

While much of the city’s commerce was conducted in shops and stands throughout the varied districts, it’s said that one can find anything one wants on Barragaro road. From dusk to dawn, vendors, barrow boys, and traders of all types loudly haggle over goods, from folksy crafts and jerked fish skewers to stolen wares and mysterious curiosities. Although many of the merchants are daily fixtures, some dealers appear, sell their wares for a day, and then are never seen again. The raucous, bustling street always has a carnival atmosphere, attracting street performers and tourists, but also hucksters, con artists, and pickpockets of all types. Just off the sloping street runs Vaingrier Alley, also called Oracle’s Alley, where sham soothsayers read fortunes in dice and bones, Sczarni dancers distract easy marks, and several of the city’s dealers in magical goods—of both dubious and masterful quality—keep shop.

Non-essential treasure items were bartered away in exchange for magical goods, some sold for gold, while Torquemada chose to donate his adventuring proceeds in service of his god. Torquemada visited the local temple of Iomedae, and left much lighted in coin pouch, but clad in the knowledge that some day soon an academy for inquisitors would be built in Caliphas, with a statue of his friend, the fallen paladin Ryzsard, standing watch over their front doors.

Of Haza, there was no sign. Given his proclivities towards recreation in a more exotic vein, Haza and Torquemada were sure that some opium den nearby was gleefully accepting his hard-earned gold.

Desnus 17th, 4711

Morning Murders

This morning, fortified by a hearty breakfast of pork sausage and fresh eggs, Torque and Ramirez set out to visit Caliphas’ library to see if they could find any sign or clue as to what the Whispering Way wanted in Caliphas. They soon found themselves blocked by a gathering crowd being held back by the local constables. A crime scene!

Torquemada inquired, and at his insistence, was led to the officer in charge of the scene – one Captain Boverde Hoptler. After some convincing by Torquemda, “Grand Inquisitor of Iomedae,” the Captain explained the situation.

“Caliphas has been plagued by a series of mysterious murders of late, in which bodies turn
up on the city’s streets drained of all fluids, only to dissolve into ash by morning. According to the men who first arrived here, we discovered the newest murder this very morning.”

Captain Hoptler led the party to a nearby pile of ash.

“A headless body was discovered lying on its stomach in an alleyway between this inn and a tailor shop. Soon thereafter, the body collapsed in upon itself and turned into this fine gray-white ash. There has been no sign of the head.

From what we were able to determine, though, the body was pushed or fell off of the roof above."

As Torque continued the conversation with the Captain, Ramirez wandered off to investigate the inn in question. The common room was empty, so he made his way up above to find a hallway of locked doors and some windows looking out. Boldly, he decided to step over the nearest sill and climb to the roof, much to the amusement and consternation of the onlookers and constables below.

Clambering quickly up to the roof, Ramirez was confronted by the two constables who had been stationed there, demanding to know what he was doing. Captain Hoptler waved them off, and they brusquely pointed Ramirez to the nearby ladder (aka Haza), and told him he would have to leave the premises. He did so, but not before noticing that two other piles of ashes were nearby on the roof.

Torque, meanwhile, had asked to check out the ashes, and was allowed to proceed as long as he didn’t disturb the evidence. The ashes appeared to be dense and powdery, similar to but texturally different from wood ash. He did notice what appeared to be a long, thin needle of hard wood protruding from the ashes, and motioned over Captain Hoptler to point it out.

“Probably dropped in the alley by one of the tailors next door.”

“Does Caliphas have any recent problems with vampires?”

“There are no vampires in Caliphas,” replied the watch captain. “We’ve never been plagued by that kind of terror.”

He seemed sincere, but Torque had his doubts. He asked for permission to examine the rooftop ashes and shortly after found similar wood needles in the piles up above.

Realizing there was nothing else to see here, Torque and Ramirez took their leave, and continued to the Caliphas’ library.

What they found was disappointing. There was little mention of necromantic cults, and nothing regarding the Whispering Way specifically. Additionally, Torquemada was not able to find any indication that there was or ever had been a vampire problem in Caliphas. In fact, there was nothing to be found that even referenced vampires or vampirism. Most peculiar for a library in a city of this size to not even have a general reference to those parasitic undead.

They did find a mentions of the presence of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye having a presence in the city, and were able to discover that the Order’s Caliphas cathedral contains a well-stocked collection of obscure lore known as the Esoteric Vaults.

It took a few hours of combing the city and talking to locals for Torquemada to discover that the Order met regularly in an older part of town at the Haraday Theatre. They quickly got directions and made their way there.

The aged, stately structure of the Haraday Theater lay nestled among several shops. The rough wooden exterior bore the signs of numerous repairs and modifications, though it seemingly had need of many more. The building itself had two entrances, one to the west and another to the south, both bracketed by large, wall-mounted oil lamps.

There was no sign of activity, so Ramirez pounded on the door. A few minutes later, the sounds of bolts being withdrawn heralded the opening of the door. A pudgy, aged gentleman, wearing a befuddled expression behind an expensive pair of silver spectacles stood there.

“We don’t have any alms, sorry,” he said as he moved to close the door.

“Wait. We’re not here for that.

Excuse me, I am Torquemada, Inquisitor of Iomedae and this is my companion the warrior Ramirez Saul. We come from Lepidstadt at the bequest of Judge Daramid."

“Oh! From Lepidstadt, you say? Yes, I know of you. Unfortunately, we are closed today. Come by tomorrow evening at 8:00. Here are some passes to get you inside. We will talk then.”

He handed two golden tickets to the pair, and closed the door. The sounds of bolts being thrown made the door hum slightly.

There was no more to be done here, so the duo returned to the Silent Hound. Of Haza, there was still no sign.

Desnus 18th, 4711

An Evening at the Haraday Theater

The next day arrived and soon turned to night. Torquemada and Ramirez found themselves back at the Haraday. Well-dressed servants stood outside the doors, welcoming arriving carriages and turning away passersby who linger next to the glass windows of what appears to be a large meeting hall.

Handing over their tickets, the two found themselves inside a foyer. Dark hardwood floors and paneled walls highlighted the entrances to the secretive social club. The exterior doors stood open to the night, while dim lamps illuminated those ahead – two doors leading further inward.

To the left sat a lounge with round tables filling the wide chamber and mahogany liquor cabinets lining the walls to the east and west. Heavy drapes hung beside three large windows and lit iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling 15 feet overhead. A number of nobles and aristocrats were milling about, drinks in hands, while servants milled about offering more drink and viands.

To the right was a gathering room. Large bookshelves and heavily draped windows lined the walls of this room. A cigar box on one of the bookshelves turned out to contain fine rolled cigars from nearby Molthune, and nearby decanters of brandy were seeing heavy use by those in attendance.

The man they had met yesterday espied them from the gathering room and came over to welcome them. He introduced himself as Abraun Chalest, Quartermaster of the Esoteric Order here in Caliphas, and suggested they go someplace more private to discuss what brought them to the city.

Once away from prying eyes and ears, Torquemada explained the circumstances that brought them to Caliphas, hot on the heels of the Whispering Way. Chalest listened intently, but had no direct knowledge of any Whispering Way activities in the city. He did mention that there might be answers in the Esoteric Vaults kept secret and safe, but that the party would have to talk to the head of the Order in Caliphas, Edjureus Modd, for permission to enter the vaults.

He went on to explain that the likelihood of that happening was low, given that Edjureus was not well-disposed towards “adventurers.”

Torque and Ramirez decided to try another route, and started mingling with the nobility and gentry. They made the acquaintance of Lady Wisterfall and Count Galdana, and while they spent an hour exchanging tales of adventure and fighting prowess with the Count, but weren’t able to find anyone else who had access to the Vaults other than Modd and Chalest.

Returning to Chalest, the duo asked for an audience with the Order’s Master, and soon were having an uncomfortable discussions with the haughty arisocrat. Disgusted at their lack of progress, they decided to approach the affable Count Galdana and ask for his assistance in dealing with Edjureus Modd.

This time, it was a rousing success! The noble Count argued eloquently on behalf of his new companions, and soon Edjureus had called over Chalest to take the party down to the Vaults. He suggested that they wait until tonight’s festivities were over, and to mingle and enjoy the Order’s hospitality until then.

The Esoteric Vaults

Early the next morning, well after all the guests had gone home, Abraun led the party through the theatre to a staircase, with bookshelves groaning beneath the weight of hundreds of tomes lining thee wooden stairs, which descended in a spiral along this chamber’s walls to the theater’s subbasement 30 feet below.

Piles of statuary, pottery, paintings, and art filled the chambers below, clustered around large wooden crates, barrels, and narrow bookshelves full of ancient, musty tomes, with only narrow, meandering pathways between them. In the final vault to the east, a large worktable lay half-buried under piles of scrolls, books, and clay tablets, illuminated by magical work lights overhead.

Abraun informed the two that he would be upstairs if needed, and left them to their work.

Within a few hours, Torquemada had uncovered a wealth of information.

Concerning the Raven’s Head – Holy to the faith of Pharasma and imbued with the power of all the bishops of Ustalav, this goldplated + 3 undead bane heavy mace has a head fashioned into the shape of four ravens’ heads, from which it gets its name. It was the symbol of office for the Bishop of Caliphas until Prince Adamondais Virholt lost the mace in battle against the Whispering Tyrant. A character with the ability to channel positive energy gains the Channel Smite feat while wielding Raven’s Head, if she does not already possess the feat. In the hands of a cleric of Pharasma, Raven’s Head gains the disruption quality, and the wielder can use the Channel Smite feat as if she were a cleric of 4 levels higher (+2 on the DC and +2d6 damage) and an extra three times per day.

Concerning the Moribund Key – Greater agents of the Whispering Way use these silver medallions as keys to their sanctuaries. Each moribund key bears an engraved skull with two gray, burned-out ioun stones for eyes. Small openings line the coin’s outer edge. By turning the skull’s head, an inner plate marked with runic symbols lines up with these openings to establish different combinations. Each setting matches symbols inscribed on objects of great importance to the cult, such as statues, paintings, and doors. The proper arrangement of these runes activates stored spell effects in such objects, including powerful wards, programmed images, or the release of arcane locks. The bearer of a moribund key can cast message at will, and spectral hand and vampiric touch 3 times per day. In addition, the skull’s eyes glow when undead approach within 60 feet. A moribund key bestows one negative level on any good creature carrying it. The negative level remains as long as the medallion is carried and cannot be overcome in any way while the medallion is in that creature’s possession.

Also discovered was a chronicle of several items the Whispering Way once kept in Caliphas, including a gargoyle statue reputed to show believers the way to the cult’s hidden stronghold in the city.

The obvious next step would be to find the location of the Whispering Way’s former stronghold, but this would prove to be a challenge. The party took their leave and returned to their inn.

Desnus 20th, 4711

The Whispering Wardens

Fruitless searches throughout the city’s libraries, records, and courts, would provide no further clue. It would take a return visit to the Haraday theatre to ask for assistance from Abraun Chalest once more.

Amazingly, once he spied the sketch that Torquemada had made of the gargoyle, he immediately recognized it. It was the same one kept in the Esoteric Vaults below!

Chalest led them back down to the Vaults below, where the gargoyle statue was quickly discovered. Half-covered by a fallen tapestry, the hideous stone gargoyle crouched upon a solid block of rough-hewn black granite. Its wings lie folded over its back, their sharp spurs reaching almost to the 10-foot-high ceiling overhead. The statue’s claws, teeth, and strangely protruding ribs all appear crafted from iron. A carved necklace with a skull-shaped medallion bearing curious runes along its outer edge hangs upon the gargoyle’s chest.

At Torquemada’s behest, Chalest retreated to the safety of upstairs, while they examined the statue. Sure enough, the carved necklace had symbols that matched those on the Moribund Key. A few simple twists of the key, and Torquemada was able to slide in into the statue’s openings with a soft click.

Suddenly, an illusion appeared in the air before the gargoyle. It depicted an aerial representation of what could only be ancient Caliphas with a single building highlighted by an unearthly green glow.

The scene was interrupted by a translucent image of four liches appeared at the cardinal points surrounding the projection of the city. A hollow voice spoke, demanding that the intruders recite the fifth catechism of the Whispering Way in harsh whispers.

Torquemada, realizing that time was of the essence, gave his best guess – the 5th line from the Carrion Crown poem.

He chose… poorly.

A suddenly burst of light and a rush of air heralded the appearance of four large devils. Merging the most horrifying features of carrion-fed insect and withered cadaver, these bony devils moved in unsettling lurches as they assailed Torque and Ramirez.

The bone devils attacked the duo with evil intent, their poisonous stingers rapidly diminishing the strength of the fighter and inquisitor. Finally, the first devil fell under the blades of Ramirez, and the pitched battle began to the turn the tide. By the time the final devil fell, both men were beaten, bloodied, and poisoned.

Urgathoa

Some claim that Urgathoa was a mortal once, but when she died, her thirst for life turned her into the Great Beyond’s first undead creature. She fled from Pharasma’s endless line of souls and back to Golarion, bringing with her disease to the world. She appears as a beautiful, ravenhaired woman from the waist up, but below that her form begins to rot and wither, until only blood-covered bones remain at her feet. Urgathoa is worshiped by undead as well as dark necromancers and those hoping to become undead. As such, her clerics must often keep their activities a secret. Some who are sick with the plague make offerings to the Pallid Princess in hopes of alleviating their illness, but most turn to Sarenrae. The occasional gluttonous prince might make offering to Urgathoa as well, be it for more food, women, or other carnal pleasures. She and Calistria vie for control of their overlapping interest, with the elven goddess representing lust and the undead one representing physical excess.

Ceremonial clothes in her church are a loose gray floorlength tunic with a bone-white or dark gray shoulder-cape clasped at the front. Traditionally the lower half of the tunic is either shredded or adorned with strips of cloth or tassels to give the overall appearance of increased damage as it approaches the floor, mirroring the goddess’ own decay. Because most ceremonies involve indulging in large amounts of food and wine, these garments are usually stained from spills. Her temples are built like feast-halls, with a large central table serving as an altar and numerous chairs surrounding it. Most temples are adjacent to a private graveyard or built over a crypt, often inhabited by ghouls (which embody all three of the goddess’s interests). Her sacred text is Serving Your Hunger, penned by Dason, her first knight-blackguard.

Urgathoa sometimes gifts female clerics who serve her particularly well by transforming them after death into hideous undead creatures called the daughters of Urgathoa. She has also been known to lend support to the daemon Horsemen from time to time, for many of their goals closely match her own. It is not uncommon to encounter daemon servants and guardians in her most powerful temples as a result.

Desnus 4th, 4711

The Phase Door

Having defeated the Vizier and the horrific monster he transformed into upon his death, the party decided to return to the village of Illmarsh and report back to Mayor Greedle. However, upon arriving at the Illmarsh Town Hall, however, the group was informed that the Mayor was not in his office. Torquemada was able to convince the young deputy to give up the fact that the Mayor was reportedly heading out to the old Undiomede House on some business, but the deputy did not have any further details. Having had a long and brutal day, the party retired to the relative comfort of the Bountiful Catch Inn, and planned to spend the evening recuperating whilst waiting for the Mayor to return to town.

An uneventful night passed, but the party was quick to discover that the Mayor had not returned during the night. The deputy, while admittedly concerned, did not seem overworried, dismissing it as an uncommon, but not unprecedented, act by the mayor.

The party remained unconvinced, and so decided to drop by the Mayor’s home in the hopes of catching him there. But, only a locked house awaited them.

A locked house with an open second-story window.

A few minutes later at the urging of his new-found friends, Ramirez Saul could be seen nimbly climbing up the front of the Mayor’s house. A closed shutter proved to be a hindrance, but soon enough Ramirez was inside the house, calling out for Mayor Greedle. He yelled down that he would throw down a rope, but Torque convinced him of the wisdom of going downstairs and opening the front door instead.

Mayor Greedle’s house was in good shape, however, the back door stood wide open and the sitting room for receiving guests clearly showed signs of a struggle. Of the Mayor himself, there was no sign.

Torque and Lashmar went out the open door, scanning the ground for tracks as they left. Sure enough, tell-tale signs of at least two humanoids carrying another between them were found. The party swiftly followed the spoor, which led them quickly back to Undiomede House, where the tracks disappeared.

Once again, the party searched the house, but of Mayor Greedle, there was no sign. However, this time Haza noticed a slime trail from one of the slug spawn creatures. The trail emerged from a hole in a wall on the lower level and led back into the Central Hall, disappearing at the base of one of the ancient stone menhirs that supported the dome above.

Immediately, the party set into discovering the secret of the stone. Torquemada looked for secret catches and pressure plates, Ramirez tried moving the 30-ton stone monolith by force, and Haza and Lashmar tried arcane and divine means to solve this puzzle.

However, the silent stone resisted their efforts. There seemed to be no mechanical or magical egress into the rock.

It was then that Torquemada noticed a very slight depression in the face of the stone- a space that was just large enough for a medallion to fit into. A medallion like that found on the Vizier’s body the day before.

Torquemada dug out the medallion and touched it to the rock, where it remained attached to the stone. There was a faint stirring in the air, and suddenly, a portal of smoky gray mist appeared in the face of the stone pillar.

A phase door!

But where did it lead?

There was only one way to find out, and the party stepped into the misty doorway and disappeared…

The Uprising: grants +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls for one battle. If outnumbered the bonus is +2 instead. The entire party must agree to use the card.

The Hidden Truth: gives the PC’s automatic success on any one Diplomacy check to gather information or Knowledge Check (effectively get the maximum result for any check). The entire party must agree to use the card.

Desnus 2nd, 4711

On the Road to Illmarsh

Investigate Thrushmoor
Travel to Illmarsh
Meet Horace Croon
Bountiful Catch Inn
The Recondite Order of the Indomitable Sea
Sheriff confronts and kills Kastigir
Confronts party after leaving temple
Escorted to Mayor Greedle
Haza of Sarenrae almost goes batshit crazy on Sheriff, Town, Golarion
Make deal with Greedle
Investigate Gifts of the Swamp
Investigate boatmaker
Wharves – see Watcher in the Bay
Back to Inn for the night. Alarm on door.

Gozran 22nd, 4711

Last Rites

After the deadly battle with the cultists of the Whispering Way in the ruined city of Feldgrau, and the revelations shown through Ulcris Sedmir’s ghostly seance about the machinations of Auren Vrood and his unknown “master,” the party prepared to follow the Dark Riders south to Thrushmoor and put an end once and for all, to their plans.

The mighty paladin of Iomedae, Ryzsard Saul, had fallen however. And Torquemada took on the responsibilities of his faith to the holy warrior, and led the group in a small ceremony to honor the life and sacrifice made by Ryzsard Saul on this day.

But time was not on their side, and the Dark Riders already had a head start, so the group quickly finished their ceremony and packed up to head south.

The journey from Feldgrau to Thrushmoor took them along the Furrows and through the Stonegroves, passing the town of Carrion Hill on their way into the county of Varno and the town of Redleaf. The manor houses of the noble families Adler, Boadely, Druanwiet, Millair, and Vanache circled forested Redleaf Lake, well known for its seclusion and waters that take on the color of fire every autumn.

Luckily a small settlement for servants and support staff had been set up alongside the Nicklecross River, and the party was able to purchase a small boat allowing them to navigate directly down the river.

Gozran 24th, 4711

A Lazy Day

Two days of river travel saw the group now working their way down the Detstach River, one of the major tributaries of Lake Encarthan, a massive freshwater lake on the southern border of Ustalav.

Having stopped for the day at a suitable clearing, the party set out their usual watch schedule and settled down for the evening. The night passed uneventfully, but come the morning, while Haza was getting ready to load the boats, he noticed that Lashmar and Torquemada were not packing up their gear as usual.

“It’s such a beautiful day,” began Torque. “We’ve been through a lot with the death of Ryzsard, we’ve been beaten up and running for days. Maybe we should just hang out here for a day and rest.”

Lashmar quickly agreed, and Haza shrugged his shoulders and acquiesced.

The day passed with Lashmar and Torquemada mostly sitting around, napping, or just watching the river water flow by the camp.

Another uneventful night followed, and the next day, Haza again was faced with companions who seemed even less interested in continuing their quest downriver. Now Haza was getting worried. He attempted to reason with the two, reminding them that the Dark Riders they were chasing were probably getting farther and farther ahead with every hour delay, but the two refused to continue onward. Haza then turned to his magic repertoire, going through an exhaustive series of spells in the hopes that if something was affecting his companions, that he could remove the curse or compunction from them. However, nothing seemed to affect the deep lassitude that had clearly settled on the group.

Another night passed, and in the morning Haza found himself in dire straits. Not only did he feel his willpower for leaving slip away and leave him stranded, but Torque and Lashmar were clearly suffering from something. They appeared drawn and haggard, their skin turning a greyish color and sinking into their flesh. Once again, Haza turned to the power of Sarenrae for help, but nothing he did seemed to break the shackles binding the party to this clearing.

It was that night that the being appeared, rising up out of the ground in a copse of trees nearby. An eerie radiance, a glow unlike anything else they had ever seen, suddenly suffused the area, bringing with it a stifling sense of latent malignancy – a Colour Out of Space. A create from the depths of the Dark Tapestry that hangs forever above the world of Golarion.

The weirdly manifested Colour slowly began to move forward, a pale ray of unearthly radiance suddenly lashing out from it’s radiance to strike Lashmar, who howled in pain as parts of his flesh began sloughing off and disintegrating. Roused to action now, the party began to assail the strange being, but their attacks and spells did not seem to harm the Colour much. It wasn’t until Haza was able to attack it using a Spiritual Weapon that the creature seemed to be greatly discomforted by their assault. Realizing that perhaps it’s unique structure was vulnerable to force affects, the party changed their tactics, and now the being seemed to be in trouble.

Suddenly, a large humanoid form came rushing into the fray. A burly half-orc, foaming at the mouth, it’s unusually long claws glowing with eldritch light, attacked the surging Colour, but to no effect.

Curious as to the identity of their “rescuer”, but still engaged in a tenuous battle, the party accepted his aid and pressed their attack on the Colour.

It gathered itself together in a roiling cloud of radiance and without a sound, streaked off up into the night sky, the faint unearthly glow of it’s passage stitching a line through the starry sky, slowly fading as the Colour retreated back into the Dark Tapestry.

The Barbarian and the Sorcerer

Having thrown off the yoke of the Colour’s lassitude effect, the party sat down to tend to their wounds and speak with the half-orc who had come to their aid – one Kastagir by name.

Originally from the forsaken land of Virlych, Kastagir’s tribe eked out a living in the wilds for generations. Bitten by a weretiger one day he felt infused with a desire to adventure and see what the real world held. He hooked up with an adventuring group for several months and heard about a ruin in these woods that was said to house some great treasure. While exploring the ruins, the Whispering Way slaughtered the group leaving Kastagir the lone survivor. Wounded and bleeding, he wandered the woods for two weeks until a goblin called Klix-Klix found him and healed him with Iomedae’s holy radiance.

At this point, the goblin called Klix-Klix appeared at the edge of the firelight. Looking much the same as the last time they saw him, he seemed greatly excited at being “reunited” with his old friends from Canterwall.

Klix-Klix went on to explain that after the party saved him many moons ago from the predations of Grubb-Grubb, he “converted” to Iomedae and she had blessed him with “mighty powers of good and fire” and had given him visions that led him to meet the party here. He asked where Ryzsard was, going on to say that it was his example that led him to follow in his footsteps, and he was crushed to hear that he had falled in battle with the Antipaladin werewolf Adimarus Ionacu.

Having heard their tale, the party shared what they knew of the Whispering Way and suggested that the two goblinoids accompany them to Thrushmoor, where they might find their chance to strike back at the Whispering Way themselves.

Gozran 27th, 4711

A Knife in the Back

Two days of river travel led the new group to the town of Thrushmoor. Whipped by frequent storms and rough seas, the old town looked worn and rugged, no amount of care or paint erasing the wear upon the spume-blasted docks and mossy quays. While the homes and structures upon the lake showed the damage of lashing waves and frequent flooding, those on the higher ground — the territory of the town’s “quality” — posture as the homes of wealthy landowners, with pristine picket fences, sharp gables, and columned facades.

The party stopped by the Sea Foam tavern, and were directed to the sole stable in town as a likely spot to inquire about any “riders” who may have come through town seeking care for their horses.

An old hay wain stood just inside the livery stable, its wooden side boards near bursting with the load of straw it bears. One of its wheels was missing, and the wagon leaned heavily to one side. A bent old man kneeled beside the wagon, struggling to fit a new
wheel on the empty axle.

“Can I help you folks?” the stablemaster asked.

Torquemada inquired about the Dark Riders, and the stablemaster stated that two horsemen in dark cloaks came to the livery the day before. The men were rude, he said, kicking mud all over the stablemaster, and “near-spooked my horses to death.” He says they paid in gold for fresh horses, and rode out again “in a powerful hurry.”

As he spoke, he continued to struggle with the wheel. Kastagir stepped forward and offered to help, and the rest of the party joined in to hoist the heavy wagon so the stablemaster could put the new wheel on.

As they were occupied holding up the heavy wagon, the stablemaster moved into position and struck with his poisoned daggers in a sneak attack! Simultaneous, two humanoid creatures with long, sharp teeth, and pallid flesh stretched tightly over its starved frame attacked with raking claws. Ghouls!

The assassin continued his attack as the ghouls jumped out of the hay wain, trying to flank the party as they pressed their advantage.

However, the party was able to rally after the surprise attack and soon the ghouls lay truly dead on the ground and the assassin turned to flee through the town. The chase was on, with Kastagir following on foot and Lashmar flying after him. He led a merry chase through the close alleys and streets, but soon was cornered once more and turned to fight. With the advantage of surprise however, the assassin was no match for the party and soon lay still on the cobblestones also.

A quick search of his body revealed:

+1 mithral shirt

+2 dagger

masterwork daggers (2)

disguise kit

small ceramic egg

thieves’ tools

20 pp

The party gathered up the assassin’s body and secreted it (along with the ghoul corpses) back to the stable.

Gozran 21st, 4711

The Hand of the Master

<auren>

<death>

As promised, the ghost performed a dark seance during which he pulled forth Vrood’s memories from his severed head. The party experienced these memories as a series of visions, each separated by flashes of bright light.

Eerily, everyone perceived these visions as though looking through the eyes of Auren Vrood himself…

The visions opened with a furiously darting ink quill that dashed out of a stream of words reading, “My Master, I shall stay in Feldgrau and build an army of corpses for our risen lord…” The sentence fades, and after a brief flash, hands place the letter in an envelope and strike it with a wax seal – the seal of the Whispering Way!

Another flash came and the scene changed. The party saw cultists scurrying around in the
town square of Feldgrau, exhuming bodies and raising an army from the corpses of Feldgrau’s dead.

After another flash, Vrood’s hands placed three strange items into a chest— an iron-and-glass vial containing a swirling gray mist, a bloody heart inside a glass bottle, and a fragile skull composed of hundreds of bone fragments. Into a second chest he placed a strange statuette of murky green stone depicting a grotesque, tentacled creature. Another f lash. The chests were given to two riders in dark cloaks on pale horses. “Ride to Thrushmoor,” the party heard Vrood’s voice speak. “Our agent will exchange the Effigy for the relic we need.”

Gozran 11th, 4711

Meet & Greet

Entering the safety of the manor walls, the party was met by the halfling porter Belik. He wore an apologetic grin and carried a silver tray holding hand-carved wooden mugs containing a steaming beverage. Belik beckoned the characters over.

“Please accept my most sincere apologies for my inappropriate behavior earlier. I was not informed of your coming and acted hastily on behalf of the lodge warden. I can assure you that you will suffer no further ill treatment during your stay at Ascanor Lodge.”

He politely offered the party hot coffee, and then continued.

“If it’s convenient for you, my master requests your company at this time for a brief introduction and to offer his apologies as well.”

Belik gestured them to follow and led them into the lodge, through a large hall, and up the stairwas, stopping at at a door where he knocked three times. The door creaks open, revealing a circular room with book-lined walls and s a slight man in his sixties, with a long face, myopic eyes, dirty spectacles, and a permanent squint.

Estovion thanked the porter and curtly dismissed him, waiting until the halfling’s footsteps faded off down the hall before speaking. Then he greeted the party and spoke in a somber tone.

“Please do not hold the actions of my porter against him. The error in your improper greeting was entirely mine. I neglected to inform my staff of the open invitations I gave to the Order,” — he paused here to wink — “and they did not recognize the reservations. Rest assured, however, that all of the lodge’s facilities are at your disposal, including our libraries. While the general library is down the hall, this one,” he says, gesturing at the book-filled shelves, “is likely better suited to your research.”

Estovion then escorted the team back down to the lower level, leading them to the dining room where refreshments were being served. There were two men partaking of the late night snack. One was a younger noblemen, deep into a bottle of deep green absinthe, a perpetual sneer seemingly frozen on his face. He seemed irritated at being interrupted, but pompously introduced himself as Corvin Tergsvor of Courtaud.

The other, also of noble bearing, was in his 50’s, mustached and goateed, and sipped at a glass of burgundy wine. He introduced himself as Cilas Greydon, the Margrave of Sturnidae, formerly of Barstoi.

Additional viands were brought into the dining room, by the manor’s scullions, Yvonna and Ostin.

Greydon turned out to be a good conversationalist. Corvin, however, was exactly the spoiled, stuck-up, snob that he at first appeared to be. 788888888888888888888888888

Gozran 10th, 4711

The Tree of Woe

Leaving behind the ruined lair of the aberration known as a weaverworm, the party continued wending their way deeper into the Shudderwood towards Ascanor Lodge.

About a half-days travel later, the party came upon a small clearing, at the edge of which sat a large yellow pine tree. The pale corpse of a naked man hung from this tree, bound to the trunk with rough cords. His mouth was stuffed with large, pale purple flowers, and his wrists and ankles were swollen and dark with bruises marking where his bindings cut into his skin, but the large silver hunting knife embedded deep in his heart seemed the most likely cause of death.

The party moved forward cautiously, as Torquemada moved up to the tree to get a better look at the corpse. Suddenly, Torque stumbled over a well-concealed trip wire, and the deep thudding of crossbow strings filled the air as over a score of silver-tipped crossbow bolts flew out of the surrounding foliage to pincushion the hapless Inquisitor.

Torquemada groaned as he fell to one knee, but the bolts had only bloodied him, and were soon removed. Luckily for him, the dried substance he found smeared on the boltheads seemed to have lost its efficacy, as he felt no ill effects other than the wounds themselves. A closer examination of the paste identified it as silversheen – an effective poison against lycanthropes, but of no consequence to a normal human.

The party set about finding and disabling all the crossbow traps, and once Torque was healed up, continued on their journey, soon making camp for the night.

Gozran 11th, 4711

The Lodge in the Wood

Dawn came dimly through the thick bowers of the Shudderwood, but at least the night had passed uneventfully – no giant arachnids or aberrant monsters had disturbed the party during the late hours, so after a quick breakfast, they resumed their trek south.

It was still early morning when the widening trail suggested they were nearing their destination. Sure enough, the tang of wood smoke soon filled the air, and rounding a turn, the adventurers saw their destination waiting for them – Ascanor Lodge.

Ascanor Lodge was a large and decadently appointed manor deep in the heart of the Shudderwood, used by Ustalav’s elite as a hunting retreat. Once a private hunting lodge owned by Lozeri’s deposed count Beauturne, the Palatine Council of Lozeri appropriated the estate when Beauturne fled the county and opened it year round to paying guests.

The Lodge was constructed out of layers of interlocking pine logs set atop a shallow stone foundation. Far from a simple cabin, the main lodge rivaled some of the grandest mansions of Caliphas. Meant to impress Ustalav’s pampered elite who come to the Shudderwood to “rough it,” its intricate (and confusing) layout consisted of various levels, balconies, patios, hallways, and towers. Ivy covered much of the stone foundation, while the remainder of the lodge consisted of “rustic” hewn wood. The roof was shingled with gray and dark red slate, while the gables, shutters, and other trim were painted a dull reddish-brown. In addition to the main lodge, the grounds supported stables, a maintenance shed, three houses for servants, and a small watchtower. A 10-foot-high, vine-covered stone wall surrounded the entire property, enterable only through a double-arched gatehouse.

As the party approached the gates, they were greeted by a number of armored guards standing watch outside the half-opened gates. They inquired as to the party’s business, and were promptly handed invitiations by Ryszard. One guard disappeared inside the gate moving towards the manor proper while the party was told to wait for a response.

About ten minutes later, a well-dressed halfing emerged, introducing himself as Belik of Ascanor Manor.

Belik had the invitations in hand and drew himself up to his full 3’ height before addressing the group:

“I apologize for any misunderstanding, but as the porter of Ascanor Lodge, I cannot permit your entrance at this time. You do not have reservations in our books, and despite your claims, I have no evidence to justify allowing strangers into the lodge. From the looks of you, unlike the rest of my guests, you haven’t come here to take a peaceful retreat. I want no trouble, so off with you all, and take whatever troubles you bring somewhere else!”

The halfling porter gestured to the assembled guards, who glared brazenly at the party who seemed rather unaffected by Belik’s pomp and arrogance.

As a silence fell, suddenly, down the path from the manor came a group of men clad in hunting leathers, led by two arguing men in front. One was dark haired, bearded, and obviously in rugged shape. He carried a ash long bow and carried a fine hunting spear that had seen much use. His arguing companion was also clad in leather, but where the first man’s were worn and practical, the second’s were much finer, but obviously much less used.

Despite the commotion, the two men pushed through the crowd, oblivious to anyone else’s concerns. Several scruffy-looking hirelings followed behind them leading a pair of horses and carrying wooden crates marked with heraldic symbols. As they shuffle past, the woodsman called back to the noble, “For the last time Duristan! I’ll take you there, but I ain’t bringing my dogs!”

Almost in mid-sentence, the one called Duristan caught sight of the PCs and sized them up. He calls to them, “You there! Fall in with me, I need more able sword-arms for the hunt!”

The hunting party continued past, and Torquemada nodded after them, the party falling in line with the group. Duristan continued his conversation, and the group learned the rugged woodsman was called Delgros. Soon, Duristan turned towards the party, suddenly seeing them for the first time. “Who are you? You’re… you’re… you look like… real adventurers!”

As Ryszard and Lashmar nodded assent at this statement, Duristan’s entire demeanor changed. His pompous attitude dissipated and he flung question after question at the group, asking about their homelands, their experiences, and their adventures. He seemed star-struck to be in the presence of “real adventurers” as he put it.

Torquemada asked what was the quarry of this hunt, and with a gleam in his eye, Duristan smiled and replied, “werewolves!”

“Werewolves?”

“Earlier this day, Delgros led a small party of patrons into the woods on a hunt that ended with the horrific, unexplained slaughter of the golden buck he and the guests were pursuing. The sight of the stag’s flayed carcass so terrified the participants that they fled back to the lodge in a panic, spreading rumors of the Devil in Gray amongst the lodge’s guests. Delgros attempted to quell the rumors, but I immediately caught wind of the gossip and realized the truth — the stag was slain by a werewolf!”

The banter with the young nobleman continued, as he was obviously enchanted with the idea that he was now traveling with seasoned adventurers.

Just outside the gates of the lodge, Duristan and Delgros mounted up and begin to trot in a westerly direction along with the party. After a few miles, they reached the spot where the dead stag was found.

The trail led to a small clearing, where the trampled ground and snapped brush showed signs of a great struggle. The soil was soaked with blood, and more was splashed upon the tree trunks and leaves. Despite the telltale evidence, Delgros’s jaw dropped and his eyes darted wildly with shock at the situation. “It’s gone!” he cries.

A frantic search of the area ensued, but all else that was found were two sets of partial tracks. One was a set of wolf prints, but of enormous size – about twice that of a normal wolf, but with elongated claws. The other was a set of large boar tracks.

Suddenly, the brush nearby shook as a trio of massive dire boars charged at the party, their razor-sharp tusks slashing into Duristan’s men as the feral beasts attacked. Duristan rushed forward to the attack, and the party followed, hacking at the bloody beasts. Luckily, Gorum smiled upon the party on this day, and the boars soon lay motionless on the sward.

Duristan was extremely excited – almost overjoyed at the battle. While he had certainly shown his bravery, his inexperience with life-and-death combat had now clearly shown through.

Delgros investigated the brush from which the boards had emerged, calling out that he had found the missing stag. Duristan wasted no time inspecting the carcass. The task was a little over his head, however, and he requested that Torquemada assist him. Torque discovered two types of wounds on the carcass — the tooth marks and tusk slashes
of the boars, and a number of bites and lacerations that presumably caused the stag’s death. After examining these wounds himself, Duristan was convinced that werewolves were about. Excited with the prospect of another kill, Duristan quickly decided to wait out the night in the woods in the hope of catching the werewolves. Delgros derided Duristan’s plan as a “fool’s errand” and informed the group that he was heading back to the lodge before night falls. Duristan hoped that the PCs will stay with him, and asked them to do so, promising them a hunt like no other. The party tried their best to dissuade the nobleman, but seeing that he was resolute in his intentions, decided to stay with him to protect him from any real threats.

The Primals

Once Delgros departed, Duristan got right to business. He recommended that they set up a central camp, lay baited traps about the perimeter, and wait for the wolves to come to them. Without waiting for the PCs’ reply, Duristan split his hirelings into pairs, and instructs them to bait the perimeter and keep watch. From the crates, his hirelings pulled
several silvered, toothed wolf traps and hunks of raw meat. Two pairs headed out in opposite directions. The third pair remained behind, setting up a small camp, while Duristan poured each of the PCs a crystal snifter of exquisite Ustalavic brandy. He entreated the PCs to tell him of their exploits, and listened eagerly and attentively. When they have finished, he proudly told them of his own prowess as werewolf hunter. To date, he’d slain three, a fact he was quite pleased with. As if to punctuate his accomplishments, he showed off his scarward — a strange scar on his shoulder given to him by a local witch that purportedly grants immunity to the curse of lycanthropy. Duristan offered to hire her to give the PCs scar-wards as well once they get back to Ascanor Lodge, but they politely declined.

Later in the evening, as the brandy in the bottle got lower and the PCs’ conversation with Duristan died down, a short, horrid snarl pierced the night, followed by a smothered scream. Gathering up their weapons, the party strode into the night. Arriving at the scene, they found the body of one dead hireling on the ground, and a huge, gray-furred
werewolf with bloody jaws holding the lifeless body of another, whose throat has been torn open.

The massive beast threw aside the lifeless body and spoke:

“Stop there, humans! Why have you entered Vollensag territory?”

“We were not aware…” started Torquemada, but the monster interrupted.

“Your false explanations are meaningless. Go tell whoever sent you to stay out of wolf affairs! Let him know that his dealings with Mathus Mordrinacht and the Silverhide pack do not sit well with the other tribes of this wood. There shall be much blood spilled between our kin before a Silverhide packlord sits upon Highthrone. Mathus the betrayer shall never claim the title, and should you and yours continue to support him, the wrath of the wolf packs shall fall upon him! Now leave our territory and return to your cozy wooden den, or share the fate of these poor little sheep!”

“We’re not leaving,” said Ryszard.

“Then DIE!” growled the werewolf before leaping to the attack!

The massive creature was amongst the party, it’s claws tearing into Haza and Ryszard and it’s fetid infected breath foul as it’s jaws snapped at the men. Weapons were bared and spells flew as the beast was joined by another, and the party was hard pressed by the two beasts.

Finally, the first creature was finally struck down by Lashmar, and as quick as the Magus’ lightning, the other had turned and retreated back into the darkened night, howling it’s frustration and hatred.

The howls were answered to the south… and to the east. At least six other beasts… whether true wolf or werewolf were closing in.

Quickly the party gathered themselves up and retreated to their campsite. Quickly packing their gear and dowsing the fire, they mounted up and raced off into the night ere the other wolves could attack.

On through the night they rode, pushing their mounts as hard as possible in the dim forest, a chorus of howls following at their very heels all the way back to Ascanor Lodge. As they finally broke the cover of the trees into the clearing around the Lodge, the howling of their hunters rose up into the night.

The doors to the lodge were open and warmth and light beckoned the party inside.

Gozran 3rd, 4711

Aftermath

With the presumed death of the Aberrant Promethean, the Beast quickly returned to the tower room below, tearing off the metal bands trapping his “Father” – Count Alpon Caromarc – inside the iron maiden. The Count slumped weakly into the arms of his creation, who gently carried him to a nearby chair.

As the party tended to the Count, he thanked them for freeing him and defeating the Promethean. He went on to explain that he had been trapped by agents of the Whispering Way, who had used his devices – the Storm Caller and the Bondslave Thrall – to control the Beast and use him to break into the University of Lepidstadt and steal the idol known as the Seasage Effigy.

Haza questioned the Count, asking how the Whispering Way had managed to get past the formidable defenses of Schloss Caromarc. The Count balked at this, but finally admitted that he had invited them. He had crossed paths with the cult before, under different circumstances, and when they recently contacted him asking to meet and exchange “mutually beneficial” information on some areas of research, Caromarc invited them to attend him at his home. Unfortunately, their ruse was quickly cast aside once they had gained entrance, and they overpowered him and took control of the manse – trapping him in the iron maiden and leaving him there to die slowly as they retrieved the Effigy with the Beast and left immediately thereafter.

At this point, a small, flying, green-skinned humanoid appeared out of thin air and perched on Caromarc’ shoulder, whispering in his ear. Caromarc’s explained that the small creature was his homunculus Waxwood, and that Waxwood had overheard the cultists talking in hushed tones about the Shudderwood – a dark forest to the south and east of Schloss Caromarc. Caromarc suspected that the cultists may have been heading for Ascanor Lodge, since that was the only island of civility in the deadly depths of the forest. Caromarc went on to mention a trail called the Silent Path – an ancient hunting trail through the Shudderwood, now little more than a memory marked in places by strange bone fetishes. Caromarc said he often used the trail himself when he was younger and had more
energy to seek out rare plants and toxins, and that one could access the old trail about a mile downstream from Schloss Caromarc.

Torquemada pulled the group aside after this revelation, and a passionate discussion ensued, with Haza pushing to take the Count back to Lepidstadt to pay for his part in the crimes committed at the University. Ryszard, Torque, and Vincent all agreed, but wanted to allow the Count to preserve some of his dignity, so approached him directly and asked him to turn himself in to answer for his crimes.

The Count considered the point. But before he was willing to agree, he wanted to know what the party intended to do now that they knew what had really happened with the involvement of the Whispering Way? Torque responded that they would continue to follow the Whispering Way, discover what their plans were, and put an stop to whatever they intended to do.

With a look of relief, the Count acquiesced to their demands, and promised that he would return to Lepidstadt as soon as he was able to travel and seek out Judge Daramid to turn himself in. He asked for paper and pen to write a letter to the Judge, and also drafted a letter of credit to the Bank of Lepidstadt – a 4,500gp reward for the brave adventurers who had saved his life and who were now seeking to end the evil of the Whispering Way.

The group helped the Count return to the safety of his manor house, stopping along the way to bring along the Magus Lashmar, who was still recovering from his own ordeal at the merciless hands of the Whispering Way.

The group decided to spend the night in the comfort of the manor house and return to the city of Lepidstadt in the morning, taking the Count’s letters with them. Lashmar asked to join them on their journey, as he also had business in the City, and had lost all of his possessions to the Whispering Way cultists.

The group readily agreed, and set out early the next morning to make the trek back through the hills and fens to Lepidstadt. The Beast was beside himself, and promised that if his friends ever needed his help, he would be there for them as they had been there for him. Grimacing (crying), he bade them farewell, and watched silently as they rode their horses up from the gates and over the hill, heading back to civilization.

Gozran 5th, 4711

Orders from the Order

The Purple Stallion was a welcome sight after two days of dreary rain-soaked travel on the road from Schloss Caromarc to Lepidstadt. After claiming some rooms for a few days, the party went directly to the townhouse of Judge Daramid. The aged butler Johns answered the door, informing the group that the Judge was indisposed for the evening, but that she would be available for appointments in the morning. There was nothing left to do but to return to the inn for the night, although everyone agreed that a stop at the Bank of Lepidstadt was called for first.

Back at the Stallion, there was a parting of ways as Vincent announced his intention to return to Ravengro. While he appreciated his time with the party, his preference for adventure was for those not quite as perilous as had been recently encountered. It was a bittersweet parting, but a few rounds of ale soon took that edge off.

The invitation was waiting for Torquemada the next morning as he arose – a meeting with Judge Daramid at 9:00 sharp. He woke Haza and Ryszard and soon they were sitting in the sitting room at Judge Daramid’s townhouse. Perhaps not surprisingly, Lashmar was already there, having received a similar invite from the Judge.

And then Embreth was there, looking regal and commanding as always. She inquired as to the events that occurred at Schloss Caromarc, listening intently as she perused the Count’s letter that Torquemada had handed her. She asked what the party’s intention was, and seemed to smile ever-so-slightly when they all spoke out about their desire to track down the Whispering Way cultists and put an end to their machinations – whatever they may turn out to be.

At this point, she asked Lashmar to recite his tale, and once completed, asked everyone to wait while she retrieved something.

That something turned out to be bags of platinum Falcons.

“Payment for your services in helping the Count, and a down payment for your assistance in tracking down the agents of the Way.”

The Judge went on to ask Lashmar if he wanted the chance to get back at his attackers and possibly retrieve his possessions – basically asking him if he would be willing to join the party in their quest, and he readily agreed.

She went on to explain that she had been in contact with the Count through other means, and had a number of blank invitations on hand that would grant the party access to Ascanor Lodge. Perhaps there they would be able to pick up the trail of the Whispering Way.

Having been given their marching orders, the party excused themselves and made their preparations to depart for the Shudderwood and Ascanor Lodge.

Gozran 9th, 4711

Dangers in the Night

Schloss Caromarc stood silent and seemingly abandoned as the party passed the buildings on their way to the dark forest looming ahead. As the Count had said, the entrance to the Silent Path was easy to find, and soon the group was slowly wending their way deeper into the dense, ancient trees.

In the twilight beneath the Shudderwood’s boughs, craggy hills, steep-edged chasms, and rushing streams formed a deadly, darkened realm of predators. Werewolves and their ilk accounted for only a portion of the Shudderwood’s dangers—and a small one at that. Although lycanthropes undeniably stalked the woodlands, their territories stretched primarily throughout the forest’s heart and eastern edges, leaving the north—and its storied bottomless pits—to chittering tribes of ettercaps and other arachnid monstrosities. Yet supernatural dangers paled in comparison to the wolf packs, giant hunting spiders, and black bears that preyed upon the Shudderwood’s robust populations of scrub boar, river trout, crow pheasant, beaver, and black deer.

However, as this day passed, no silent threat emerged from the thick woods to menace the party, and as dusk began to fall on the companions, they began to wonder why this forest had such a foul reputation.

Watches were set and dinner made, and soon the party was fast asleep, dreaming into the dark night.

It was on Ryszard’s watch that the forest’s terrors materialized. There was a sudden thrashing in the trees, as branches could be clearly heard bending and snapping as something massive moved through the woods, apparently making straight for the party’s camp. Ryszard quickly roused the party, who grabbed weapons and turned to meet the intruder.

And found themselves staring up into eight giant compound eyes, as a giant tarantula came scuttling out of the trees, splintering wood heralding it’s rush toward it’s newly-found prey.

The spider stood well over ten foot tall, and its massive mandibles dripped with thick black venom. It continued it’s hungry rush, quickly snapping at Torquemada and Haza as the party attacked the enormous arachnid with spells and weapons. The mindless vermin continued it’s attack, even as beams of searing light set the hairy monster afire while it skittered amongst the adventurers.

Finally, the combined might of the party proved too much even for the gargantuan spider, and it collapsed upon itself, it’s tree-trunk thick legs spasming in the throes of death. The stench of burnt hair and flesh filled the camp, forcing the party to pack up and move before the smell attracted other predators from the depths of the dark forest.

Gozran 10th, 4711

The Weaverworm

Fortunately, the rest of the night passed uneventfully. As the party set out the next day, a light mist rose amongst the trees, masking the ground and muting the sounds of the forest. All were on edge after the encounter with the giant tarantula the night before, but as the morning wore on, nothing threatened the party. Once again, a hush seemed to have settled over the forest, though this time the group knew this was only temporary. Danger still lurked amongst the trees and was only biding it’s time.

It was early afternoon when Torquemada called a halt to the march. The forest around the path had thinned, and a brisk crosswind scattered concealing drifts of pine needles across the trail. If not for the shallow grooves left behind by the wheels of occasional traveling wagons, following the path would have been nearly impossible. Torque stood motionless, observing the surrounding trees, and then came back to the group, speaking in a low whisper.

“Creatures in the trees,” he warned. “I think they are ettercaps.”

Ettercaps. Hideous purple creatures that walked upright like a man, but with a face like that of a spider, and with hands that ended in sickle-shaped claws.

“They’re usually solitary creatures, but it looks like there are at least 3 or 4 of them waiting for us to pass by. Maybe I should split off and try to circle around them?”

The others agrees with Torque, and watched as he walked off the trail into the trees, moving slowly and disappearing into the foliage.

Torque took a long, looping path around the ambush site, but as he made his way back toward the trail, he could no longer spy the ettercaps. Cautiously, he reexamined the area, but there was no sign of the creatures. Finally, he stood up in plain view and walked back onto the trail, tensed for action. Still nothing happened.

Finally, he waved the rest of the party over and started to search the area for clues. He confirmed at least four ettercaps had been lying in wait, but they all seemed to have retreated further along the trail. As he cautiously followed their tracks, he espied a few silver and gold coins lying in the middle of the trail, obviously dropped by the ettercaps as lures.

The party discussed this, and decided that for whatever reason, the ettercaps had abandoned their original ambush plan. Whatever their plans now, it would occur further down the trail, so they would press on and see what happened next.

About a half mile further, the soft, haunting melody of a harp drifted through the air, emanating from a ruined stone watchtower in a small clearing. The tower stoods about three stories tall; blood ivy and grayish-green lichen blanketed the stonework of the tower’s crumbling exterior, while passing winds whistled softly through its darkened, gaping windows.

Suddenly, Torquemada started walking purposefully towards the tower, ignoring the others’ questions as he strode forward. Haza jogged forward to grab his arm, but he shrugged him off and continued walking to the tower. Only now, Lashmar and Ryszard had joined him! All three continued into the tower, and Haza could only rush after them trying to get their attention.

Long, taut strands of shimmering silk filled the ruined tower’s interior, forming an intricate pattern running from floor to ceiling. Half a dozen large cocoonlike shapes hung from the ceiling, suspended above the tower’s hard-packed dirt floor. In the far corner, between two larger chunks of rubble, a wide burrow opened into the ground.

As the party entered, the weird harp-like music suddenly stopped, and Haza watched as Ryszard, Torque, and Lashmar seemed to shake off their trance, looking around surprisedly. Torque moved slowly forward and investigated one of the cocoons, cutting it open to reveal the grisly remains of a human hanging upside down.

And then, from the burrow, a creature with the head and flayed torso of a giant woman atop the bulbous body of a sickly-looking, multi-legged larva rose.

The creature, known as a weaverworm, moved forward and slashed at Torquemada. It’s long, hooked nails tore and broke off, lodging in Torquemada’s flesh, and he felt his limbs grown heavy and leaden.

The leadenness deepened. He was paralyzed!

Lashmar and Ryzsard had recovered from the strange trance earlier, and joined Haza in attacking the hideous aberration as it turned its attention to the paladin and cleric. Ryszard also fell prey to the monster’s paralyzing nails, while Torquemada could only struggle unsuccessfully to overcome his own paralysis.

Finally, though, the creature began to give ground under the unrelenting attack of the party, and turned to flee only to be cut down in furious anger by Haza. The weaverworm lay dead, and soon its paralyzing venom began to wear off. The party was badly battered, but the power of Sarenrae soon flowed through Haza, mending flesh and bone, if not the spirit of the brave adventurers.

The party examined the strange creature and continued to search the cocoons, but nothing of value was found – only more desiccated corpses of men, goats, and a horse. The only thing left to do was to investigate it’s underground burrow.

Soft webbing wreathed the walls, ceiling, and floor of the subterranean chamber. Several lumps bulged outward along the floor, unidentifiable under layers of sticky webs.

A careful search through the lumps of webbing revealed the weaverworm’s treasure, gathered from her victims:

a potion of heroism

a ring of feather falling

a magical shield +2

721 gp in assorted coins

Also amongst the corpses was found a blood-covered sealed envelope. Inside was a letter that seemed similar to the invitation letters the party had received for Ascanor Lodge, but was so blood-soaked and smeared as to be illegible.

Having fully recovered from this strange encounter, the party climbed back to the surface. They retraced their way back to the Silent Path, once again following the trail further into the depths of the dangerous and mysterious Shudderwood.

"You look trustworthy..."

A run-in with the merchants lords of Druma ended with an ambush by members of that country’s Mercenary League, leaving Lashmar the Magus the only survivor of his Pathfinder team. Evading the elite death squads, he hastily found passage on the next vessel leaving the port city of Kerse, and found found himself wandering the streets of the city of Caliphas, off Lake Encarthan, in the Principality of Ustalav.

After dispatching a messenger to the Pathfinder Lodge, he took stock of his situation and realized that he was near coinless, so opted to find some means to provide a living while he figured out what to do next.

While reading notes on a message post one day, he was approached by a middle-aged, balding man who introduced himself as Thrain of Pharasma. Thrain had noticed that Lashmar seemed to be looking for work, and if so, the priest wondered if the role of messenger were beneath him?

Lashmar assured him it was not, and Thrain explained that he had an important message that needed to be delivered to a Judge Daramid in the city of Lepidstadt, far to the northwest. He offered the sum of 100gp, as the message was urgent and the terrain not without danger, with a promise of a further 100gp from the Judge upon delivery of the message. Was he interested?

200 gp to deliver a scroll tube?

Yes, he was interested.

Arrangements were made for Lashmar to leave the next day, as he accompanied Father Thrain back to the Temple of Pharasma and received the scroll tube and his initial payment. After a good night’s rest, Lashmar headed northwest up the Path river, traveling through the principalities of Caliphas, Amaans, Canterwall, and Lozeri, skirting the Shudderwood and arriving a few nights ago near Schloss Caromarc.

Having traveled long and hard, and with a cold rain coming from the north, Lashmar sought shelter at the castle, but once he was admitted to the gatehouse, was set upon by black-robed clerics and burning skeletons. He fought valiantly, but soon lay unconscious at the hands of the mysterious group.

He was dimly aware of being carried over water and through rooms, but only came to in complete darkness. He was without his gear, but was soon able to discern that he had been walled up in some sort of small room, with no water, food, or air supply. He knew that he would not last long…

Gozran 3rd, 4711

The Five Towers

The exposed, winding, narrow pathway that climbed the bare rock face to the series of towers above had no handrails or guide ropes. The party took the steep ascent cautiously, lest one of them slip off of the narrow ledge and plummet into the surging waters over a hundred feet below.

The path ended after about 80 feet at a small stairway that descended 10 feet to a recessed iron door. The door had a patina of rust, and the reason became apparent when Ryszard finally forced the door open and a gush of water came pouring out in a steady stream about a foot high.

Passing within, the group found themselves in a flooded corridor. The water continued swirl around their feet and out the door, and showed no signs of decreasing in volume anytime soon. A stairwell directly ahead led up a few feet before unexpectedly ending in a heap of boulders and twisted supports. That way was clearly blocked, although the corridor extended into the distance on either side.

The Drowned Guards

The party chose to head down the eastern section, Torquemada taking the lead and probing for traps. His caution paid off as the corridor turned to the north, as his foot found no purchase at that junction. Vincent moved up and probed the dark water with his polearm, and indeed, there apparently was a pit of sorts hidden in the water before them. Then his lucern hammer was almost pulled from his grasp, as something had seized it in the watery pit below. Vincent pulled his weapon free with a surge of strength, as two figures burst from the water, lunging forward and pulling Torquemada with them into the unknown depths of the pit.

The water was dark and murky, but Torquemada could see that the figures grappling him were not human. At least not any more. These barnacle-encrusted walking corpses looked like zombies, but is dripping with water had given off a nauseating stench.

Draugr then.

Torque struggled mightily as two more draugr appeared above and menaced the party. Haza called upon the power of Sarenrae to blast the undead with searing light as Vincent plunged his polearm through the torso of one of the scorched monsters. Ryszard dropped his bow, grabbed a dagger and plunged into the water after Torquemada. Torque was able to wriggle free and joined in with Ryszard to battle the undead in the water, while their companions finished off the draugr above.

Swimming over the watery trap, the party regrouped on the other side, and moved forward through an iron door to the north. Past it was a large, round room. This circular chamber was empty save for dark water. Two doors sat high up the walls to the north and west, while one sat opposite the entryway on the same level.

Torque once more tested the water and found the the floor dropped off precipitously in front of them, with no easy way of telling how deep the water was further into the room.

As they deliberated how to pass this obstacle, Torquemada noticed something moving slowly through the water. It was decidedly hard to see, but he could make out the shape of two reptilian eyes staring at him. As as he met its gaze, he felt his heart slow a bit. His limbs felt heavy and his thoughts became slow. It was only with a great effort of will that he was able to avert his gaze and avoid a gruesome fate.

He recognized those eyes – they were the eyes of a basilisk. It’s very gaze could turn a man to stone, and it clearly laired in this chamber.

Torque warned the others of the silent threat in the waters, and all retreated carefully back into the southern hallway, closing the iron door behind them. They retraced their steps and attempted the western portion. Torque stopped the group as the corridor turned north, fearing another pit trap. He was much relieved when he could find no trace of one, and moved on.

The Pit of Leeches

It came as quite a surprise then as he stepped forward and the floor beneath his feet collapsed, plunging him into another pit full of water. This time no dead hands clutches at his flesh. Instead, darkness swirled around him in the water, as a host of tiny surging leeches swarmed upon the hapless inquisitor. Torquemada reeled under their assault, as the vermin attached themselves all over him, drinking deep of his lifesblood.

Torquemada was able to leverage himself out of the pit, but the leeches still swarmed over his body. Haza apologized to Torquemada for what was about to happen, and then fire sprayed from his fingertips as he cast burning hands on the swarms, and unfortunately, Torquemada also. The others joined in as best they could, and soon the countless bodies of dead leeches floated away in the lazy current leading outside.

Having suffered a tremendous loss of blood to the ravenous vermin, Torquemada called for a break and used his wand of lesser restoration to reccover most of his stamina. The group crossed over the pit and emerged in the northern hallway.

Descended from Apes

The northern corridor also was blocked by iron doors, which opened under protest to reveal another circular room beyond. A rotting stench filled this room, coming from a trio of headless, apelike creatures inside heavy iron cages – girallons, Torquemada offered. The waters lapped against these corpses, while the twisted remnants of an iron walkway lay half-submerged in the water. Two doors sat high in the north and east walls, thirty feet above the floor, while one sat to the north opposite the doors they had entered.

Vincent took point, moving forward through the waters, probing with his polearm. He had made it 2/3 of the way across the chamber, when a piercing scream echoed from the dark reaches of the ceiling somewhere above.

Three creatures with the deformed heads of large, horned, fanged gorillas – with tentacles dangling from chin and scalp – flew down and attacked the fighter. Torquemada recognized the other plane horrors as vargouilles, evil fiends with a terrible attack that would turn those infected by it into vargouilles themselves.

The girallon-headed vargouilles shrieks had paralyzed Vincent, and everyone watched as one of the hideous monsters hovered before him, moving forward to plant an-almost gentle kiss on Vincent’s lips – before plunging it’s stinking tongue deep into the helpless warriors mouth! The party surged forward, arrows, spells, and blades seeking the blood of the hideous outsiders. The one making out with Vincent was struck down in a flurry of arrows, and Vincent was finally able to throw off the effects of the paralysis as the other two vargouilles were brought low also.

Luckily for the fighter, he did not appear to have been infected by the vargouilles hideous kiss, and the group was able to reach the next door without further incident.

The Infestation

The room beyond seemed to be infested with various fungi that cling to every surface. The broken remains of an iron walkway jutted from the water, also now infested with fungi. Two doors stood high up on the walls to the east and south directly above where the party stood. Torquemada surveyed the room, and was startled to see a number of fungi that appeared to be mobile – identifying a basidirond and violet fungi. Both were semi-sentient plants and would most certainly be hostile toward the party. Now, it became a choice between facing the fungi or returning to fight the basilisk.

The group chose to press forward, and arrayed themselves in formation for the assault on the fungi. Vincent moved forward and opened the door, retreating back to his place to await the slow-moving fungi.

However, these fungi were not slow moving. Surging into the room, the basidirond rushed at Torquemada, a cloud of spores bursting from its body. Haza screamed and turned to flee from the undead fiends that once had been his friend and companions, while Ryszard froze in place, believing himself to be only a few inches tall and in danger of being sqaushed by everyone.

Torquemada and Vincent cornered and cut down the basidirond, only to have to contend with the violet fungi now entering the room. Vincent was struck by one of their tentacles, but luckily was not infected by its rotting enzymes. As the last fungi fell, Ryszard snapped out of his stupor, and all were left wondering where Haza had gone.

Retracing their steps, Torquemada was able to follow the trail left by Haza – it disappeared back up the corridor and outside to the narrow trail, where it appeared that in his haste, he had slipped off the side of the cliff and fell into the river waters far below…

A Cask of Lashmarado

Realizing that there was nothing further they could do for Haza at that point, the group returned to the tower complex, retracing their steps back to the fungi room, where Vincent was able to climb up to the door high up on the eastern wall. It opened into a short corridor, while a nearby alcove held some items on a small ledge. Vincent threw down a rope and helped Torque and Ryszard make the ascent, before they turned their attention to the items found:

potion of nondetection

wand of charm monster with 44 charges.

Taking the corridor east, Torquemada was faced with a curious stone door, when he head a faint knocking on the wall to his left. He motioned for quiet as he bent ear to the stone, and could hear the sounds continuing. Something was on the other side of the wall. Ryszard knocked against the wall, and everyone could hear the responding knock from the other side. Two knocks by Ryszard – and two knocks in return. Torquemada tried shouting and again listened for an answer. He heard a voice in the common tongue say “Help me. I’m trapped in here and running out of air.”

The section of wall appeared to be solid and old, yet clearly was made of different stone than the rest of the corridor. Torquemada could detect a faint aura of transmutation magic coming from it also.

The group debated what to do, considering whether or not it was a trap, but Ryszard settled the matter by blasting the wall with the ring of ram, knocking a hole in it. Beyond could be seen a small room seemingly carved out of the stone, and a battered and bruised man lying limply within.

As they helped the man from his makeshift prison, he introduced himself as Lashmar, a traveler from south Ustalev who had been waylaid by robed figures and undead monsters as he sought shelter for the night at Schloss Caromarc. Lashmar appeared wounded, dehydrated, and exhausted, so the party left him some rations as they remained determined to answer the mystery behind the deserted castle once and for all.

Once again, Torquemada faced the stone door. Opening it revealed another circular room, and if the calculations were correct, this one was directly north of the basilisk chamber.

Other than the two stone doors high on the walls, this room seemed bare save for the dark waters covering the floor.

Nothing stirred in the room, so Torquemada closed the door and the group returned to the fungi room to try the next series of upper passages.

The middle passage also had an alcove, this one containing:

potion of displacement

potion of gaseous form

two vials of alchemically preserved basilisk blood

This corridor continued to run east, clearly beyond the confines of the four towers in this part of the complex, but before continuing that way the party also investigated the southernmost upper passage. This passage had no alcove, but did have the upper portion of the collapsed stairwell originally seen when entering the complex.

The party returned to the middle passage and headed east, emerging through another iron door upon a bridge. This grand stone bridge arched over the gorge to a stack of rock onwhich perched a high tower topped with a lightning rod. The bridge had no handrails and was barely 3 feet wide, but seemed to be solid and stable.

There was nothing to do but to press onward, and the party slowly traversed the bridge.

The Lightning Tower

The party now stood at the foot of a great stone tower perched atop a sheer stack of rock above the river. The tower climbed to an elaborate iron steeple, from which a huge lightning conductor called out to the skies. A stout iron-bound door stood before them, standing slightly ajar.

Inside, a curving stone staircase wound along the wall of a circular chamber up to a trapdoor in the ceiling some thirty feet above. The room was in chaos, with books, alchemical equipment, and curiously twisted metal everywhere. A huge, broken cage stood in the center of the room, its bars bent and door smashed open.

Dropping from the top of the shattered cage, and presumably its former occupant, the Guardian of Tower rushed forward to attack the party!

The flesh golem tore into Vincent, its four arms tearing and rending at the fighter as the party was staggered by its initial assault. Rallying, the group fought back, with Torquemada leading the charge, giving Vincent time to drink some potions and heal some of his wound. Ryszard’s arrows struck the golem, hurting it but not causing significant damage. Then Vincent returned to the fray, wielding his polearm in powerful attacks. The golem again struck at the party, smashing Vincent to the ground. Realizing they were outclassed, Torquemada yelled at the party to retreat to the bridge, and held his ground as Ryszard and Vincent came rushing out, struggling to stay balanced on the bridge.

As the Guardian came rushing after them, Torquemada attempted to cast a grease spell at the edge of the bridge, but as he did the creature struck him, sending him reeling back and falling over the edge of the narrow bridge. Only by chance did he avoid the fate of Haza and managed to grasp onto the bridge’ edge, as he dangled in the air 200’ feet above the river below.

The Guardian moved forward to attack once more, but lost its footing on the grease and fell sideways off the bridge. Torquemada saw it flash by his face as it fell, it’s arms and legs thrashing as it plummeted down into the rapid waters and disappeared from sight.

After helping Torquemada get back to solid ground, they threw a cloth over the grease patch and turned their attention to the now-vacant room, and began to search through the mess.

Pinned behind the door, Torquemada found a number of pages seemingly torn from the books in the room. The series of abstruse notes were marred with notations and diagrams in the margins written in red ink and with a different hand, but they were also soiled with char marks, stains, and tears – making them illegible for the most part.

Nothing else useful was found, so the party continued up the stairs, only to be faced by a solid trapdoor seemingly made out of pure adamantine. Puzzled, Torquemada took extra precautions in searching the doorway, but could find no magic or signs of traps or locks, so Vincent flung open the trapdoor and the party ascending into the room above.

This circular room was choked with webs. A stone staircase curved along the wall to another trapdoor in the ceiling. Otherwise, the room appeared empty.

Puzzling.

Torque used his inquisitorial powers to set his blade aflame, clearing the room of the webs and allowing the party to move freely.

The group decided to search this room, and was rewarded when they discovered a number of faint chalk marks on the east wall of the room. Crude chalk diagram depicted the iron spire atop of the tower, and two strange apparatuses at its pinnacle. An arrow pointed to the larger of the two devices, next to the words “The Storm Caller must be activated to energize
the Bondslave Thrall.”

Puzzles upon puzzles it seemed.

Once again, there were no other answers here, so the party once again climbed to the next level of the tower.

The Aberrant Promethean

This tower room, clearly once a laboratory, was also choked with huge webs. Two curious objects — a large iron idol and a glass bell jar of the same size — stood against the eastern wall. The jar was filled with fluid and contained a (dead) human woman, while the idol had only two openings for eyeholes, through which blinked a pair of terrified human eyes. The master of Schloss Caromarc, Count Alpon Caromarc, had finally been found.

The group quickly moved over to the device, trying to determine how to open the torture device, but only Torquemada heard the whispered warning from the Count:

“You must get to the roof. It’s coming. ITSCOMING!”

And then something huge dropped to the floor from the roof above. A stitched abomination made from the parts of at least half a dozen creatures, the Aberrant Promethean seemed to be a mixture of choker, chuul, cloaker,and ettercap, blended together into a disgusting mass of
false life. It’s speed was incredible as it rushed toward and slammed into Torque, grappling him with ease and hauling him into the reach of its many tentacles. Ryszard and Vincent struck at the monster, but their best attacks seemed to only annoy the beast. Torquemada screamed at them to get to the roof, before the paralyzing touch of the Promethean stifled his cries.

Racing to the level above, Ryszard found himself on the tower roof.

The tower opened onto a flat platform high above the raging waters. A spire of twisted iron rose from the tower’s roof in a series of three triangular iron platforms. Perched at the very top stood a huge lightning conductor and numerous lightning rods. A peculiar brass device, studded with dials and protrusions and filled with a strange purple liquid, stood nearby, attached to a huge silvery conductor by thick, rubber coated cables.

Ryszard moved quickly to the device, throwing levers and dials, and seemingly activating something, as the brass device started to emit a deep hum and began sending out myriad sparks and bolts. As if in answer, the tower above began to hum with power also, as the very air above the tower began to thicken and darken.

Rain started to fall and with a crash of thunder, a lightning bolt struck the tower, throwing sparks all over the area, as Vincent made it to the roof.

More lightning began to strike, lashing at the tower, as well as the roof. Ryszard and Vincent huddled against the device, trying to avoid the electric bolts when suddenly the Aberrant Promethean burst up through the roof, still carrying the motionless Torquemada in its tentacles. The monster seemed enraged, and started to strike at the very tower itself, its powerful blows denting and bending the metal supports.

The brass device now revealed a glowing iron handle, and as Ryszard grasped it, he suddenly was somewhere else…

Welcome Home

The rain lashed as his skin as the thunder roared and the lightning flashed. The bridge was ahead, but there was a cloth on it. He did not know why.

But he knew that the Promethean was above. With Father. And his friends.

He had to move fast. They would need his help now.

He moved fast. Over the bridge, up the stairs, up the next stairs. He could see them above on the roof, and Father. Father was trapped in a box. He had to help him…

But first, he had to stop his brother. And save his friends.

He heard the call of the Bondslave Thrall and could not disobey, not even to save his Father.

He moved fast.

The Final Battle

Great sections of the metal supports were now bent and sagging under the relentless assault of the Aberrant Promethean. It was close to destroying the tower and the Stormcaller.

But then the Beast entered the fray, slamming into the side of the construct and throwing it back. With a horrible roar, the Promethean slammed into the Beast, grabbing it in it’s claws and throttling him. But the Beast did not need to breathe, and was able to surge out of the grasp of the monster.

As the battle continued, Torquemada was thrown free of the Promethean, having been forgotten in its blind rage. Now the others were able to get him to his feet as they watched the battle between the two behemoths.

Clearly, the Beast was able to hold his own, but even he was showing signs of the damage inflicted by the Promethean. Remembering how they dealt with the Guardian of the Tower below, the party quickly formulated a plan of attack, using Ryszard’s control of the Beast to get the Promethean in just the right place.

And then, Ryszard had the Beast bull rush the Promethean as he attacked it with the full power of his ring of the ram and Vincent rushed forward on his own, pushing back against the huge monster.

It fell back under the terrific assault, it’s many legs scrambling for purchase on the rain-slicked stone, pushed back… back… and back…

Over the edge of the roof.

It’s scream of rage could be heard above the thundering lightning as it fell down into the darkness.

Gozran 2nd, 4711

Meanwhile at stately Caromarc Manor…

Now that the danger had passed, the group was able to take stock of their surroundings. A huge portrait hung above an enormous, lit fireplace in this large entry chamber, while a set of steep stairs rose to the right. Two doors led north to either side of the roaring fireplace, while another led east.

Haza and Torquemada split the northern doors while Vincent and Ryszard ascended the stairs to a balcony above. Through the northern doors were a series of storerooms – four rooms crammed with items in boxes and on shelves while the smell of beeswax lingered in the air. One was a household storeroom containing furniture polish, mops and brooms, torches, and other simple tools clearly meant for daily chores. Another was a well-stocked wine cellar, with another a larder stocked with excellent foodstuffs. The final room was full of coal obviously meant for the manor’s fireplaces.

Beyond those rooms was a well-stocked kitchen contains a roaring stove, several workbenches, and a spice cabinet.

Upstairs, the fighter and paladin found a series of well-appointed bedrooms. Two were obviously guest rooms – white sheets covered a four-poster bed, while a wardrobe and dressing table stood nearby. In the southernmost one, a locked metal door was found to lead outside to a narrow stone balcony sans handrails, perilously poised over the roaring waterfall hundreds of feet below.

One room contained three simple cots and a table littered with numerous sheaves of paper and books.

The final room was obviously the master bedroom. A resplendent four-poster bed dominated the room filled with oak furniture consisting of a wardrobe, a dressing table, a chest, and a tall dressing mirror.

Peering out the narrow northern windows, Vincent could see part of the narrow bridge leading to the partially destroyed building to the north, but the entrance clearly lay on the floor below. Having found no other means of egress on the second floor, Ryszard and Vincent returned to the first floor.

Meanwhile, Haza and Torquemada had continued their search of the first level, emerging from the kitchen/storage area into a large room with a vaulted ceiling adorned with gilt. A pair of halberds hung above a huge lit fireplace in the far wall, and a great dining table and twelve chairs took up the center of the room.

At your service

At this point Torquemada turned around to face a bucket of coal floating in the air before him. He stood shocked as the bucket moved around him and serenely glided over to the nearby fireplace, where a scoop started adding coals to the lit fire. Haza also saw the strange spectacle, and the pair followed the bucket as it began to float away to the south heading towards a hallway on the other side of the room.

The coal bucket moved into the hallway, around the corner and into a small room. Two plush chairs sat around a small lit fire in this cramped, tobacco-stained room. Numerous tobacco jars stood on a shelf next to a pipe rack filled with strange pipes in here also. The bucket of coal began to stoke the fire in this room as well, and Haza divined the nature of this phenomenon. One detect magic later, and he confirmed his belief that what he and Torquemada were following was in face, an unseen servant, obviously tasked with keeping the fires lit in the manor. It was no surprise then, when another bucket and mop came floating in and started cleaning the floors.

A quick investigation of the southern hallway revealed a few more doors. Haza entered one, finding a billiards table filling up most of the chamber. A rack of cues on one wall and a brass and gold score checker hung by the door.

Torquemada found two smallish trophy rooms, filled with small stuffed animal trophies – rabbits, foxes, a small bear, and the like.

The last room entered turned out to a library. Shelves crammed with books lined the walls of this room and a comfortable leather chair sat in the room’s center. Most of the books seemed to deal with engineering and construction.

The final door turned out to lead back to the entrance hall, where Vincent and Ryszard now waited.

The entire mansion had been searched, but no sign of the exit to the northern building had been seen. The party gathered in the kitchen, thoroughly searching the area for some kind of hidden or secret passageway, but none could be found.

Exhausted by the day’s events and frustrated by their current lack of progress, the party decided to bed down for the night. Barricading the broken front door, they bunkered down in the upstairs bedrooms, using the Stone of Alarm in the upstairs hallway out as an early warning system. Wrapped in the luxurious softness of the down-filled beds, the weary adventurers were soon fast asleep.

The night passed uneventfully, and there was still no sign of their host, Count Alpon Caromarc. Torquemada even took to using a magically enhanced shout to try to get a response from one of the other buildings, but still there was no response.

There was still no sign of the narrow bridge that Vincent DuMont had seen heading to the northern building, so the party resumed their search for a secret door, and were rewarded when one was found in the dining room. A short corridor ended at a door in the north wall, beyond which was the narrow stone bridge the crossed above the roaring river waters far below.

After slowly traversing the narrow arch of stone, the party stood on a small stone terrace with a wooden door. The door did not appear to be trapped, nor was it locked, so the group continued inside.

Gozran 3rd, 4711

Ashes to ashes, rust to rust…

Beyond the door was a large workshop or laboratory crammed with alchemical equipment, but an explosion of some kind had ripped away the western wall, leaving a large gap in the floor and wall open, now wreathed with scaffolding. It looked as if a stone bridge once connected this building with another on the far side of the gorge, but only a slender rope bridge now hung between the two.

The room was demolished, with pieces of metal, stone, wood, and shattered glass strewn about the room, while large holes loomed in the floor. The rent remains of a large iron vessel seemed to stand out as the likely culprit behind the buildings destruction.

The party decided to search the ruins, but as they set about to do so, three insectile creatures emerged from the debris and rushed forward. These monster skittered on four legs, with a strange propeller-shaped protrusion at the end of its tail and two long, feathery antennae that weaved in the air with obvious intent.

Torquemada realized too late what the threat was, as a monster’s antenna slapped against his metal armor. As the metal immediately turned brown and started to corrode before his eyes, Torque cried out “rust monsters!”

The party split apart and tried to corner the legendary aberrations, and were relieved to see that their metal weapons appeared to hurt the creatures without being subjected to it’s strange rusting powers. Those were apparently limited to it’s prehensile antennae. The battle continued on, with Ryszard the next to fall prey to the rusting touch of the monsters. One rust monster fell to blade and spell, but the remaining two struck again, and the armors of Ryszard and Torquemada simply fell to pieces before they were also slain.

The battle over, the group rearmored themselves as best they could, and found some measure of recompense in the discovery of a rod of flame extinguishing buried amidst the debris after their interrupted search was finally completed. They also discovered that the rust monsters had seriously corroded the structural iron beams underneath the building, making it dangerously unstable. Based on this they decided to press on with all haste, and made preparations for crossing the narrow rope bridge to the next building.

Dancing with the devil

Torquemada offered to lead the way over the bridge, moving slowly and checking for any signs of magical traps. Unfortunately for him, he only noticed the spell trap as he set it off and a whoosh of air heralded the summoning of another creature from another plane.

This time it was no towering vortex of swirling wind.

Some calamity had befallen the angelic warrior that appeared in the air above the rope bridge. Wings stained black shear the air as she hovered in the air, her merciless eyes finding Torquemada and the rest of the party gathered in the ruined workshop. She bore a long coiling rope of black hairs and a long wicked-looking blade in her hand, while at her back was an ebony bow of fine make.

The erinyes, for devil she was, struck out at Torquemada with her rope, attempting to pull him off into the raging torrent below, but he nimbly evaded her attack. Haza retaliated with a powerful spell, but was stymied when his spell fizzed into nothingness against the natural spell resistance of the devil. Ryszard was more effective with his bow, as his arrows flew straight and true into the darkened flesh of the erinyes. Vincent struck at the creature with sling stones, but they proved ineffective against the outsider.

As Torquemada made his way back into the relative safety of the workshop, as the devil switched to her bow, sending volleys of arrows back at the paladin as the ranged attacks continued. Suddenly, a cold, cloying miasma of greasy darkness erupted in the center of the party, rolling over them in waves of vileness. The unholy blight tore at the party, sickening and tearing through their bodies as cramping, debilitating pains. The devil landed and pressed her attacks with sword and rope now, and Torquemada made for the stone bridge, hoping to recover and regroup from the relative safety of it’s intact walls. However, perhaps sensing his desperation, the erinyes flew off in pursuit of him, attacking him once more as he entered the short corridor leading to the dining hall. Haza and Vincent rushed to Torque’s aid, and soon had the devil flanked between them. Now in desperate straits herself, she attempted to flee back outside, but was caught in a flurry of steel and fell mortally wounded, her screams of pain and rage echoing throughout the room as her body began to disintegrate and fade from view as she returned to the Nine Hells.

“That was too close,” said Vincent. “That thing almost killed us all.”

After a short rest to recover and refocus, the party once again attempted to pass over the rope bridge, and this time were successful.

The Living Museum

The other end of the demolished bridge clung to the cliff beneath a large building. A statue of a beautiful nymph stood next to a pair of double doors, while above the doors was a stained glass window depicting a unicorn.

The doors were neither locked nor trapped, and opened into a lobby. This room was crammed with cabinets full of weird, alchemically preserved creatures, including a pair of ice mephit wings, several large spiders, parts of a dissected giant slug, and the digestive tracts and proboscises of a number of stirges. Doors led off to the north, south, and west.

The party quickly searched the room, but then moved on, opening the door to the south.

Things of the Sea

The skeleton of a sea cow dominated the next room, hung from the ceiling on a set of iron rungs and held together by a steel frame. Numerous jars sat on shelves within the room, containing alchemically preserved octopuses, tubeworms, the head of a skum, a curiously repellent eel-like creature with fangs, and a strange, mermaidlike creature with the upper body of a monkey and the tail of a fish, which Torquemada was able to identify as a ningyo – a half-simian/half-fish type of mer-creature rumored to inhabit the tropical coasts of Garund.

Things of the Land

A search of this room also proved fruitless, and the party returned to the previous room and tried the western door. That led to another, larger room. Inside, a stuffed bulette faced the door to this room and cabinets along the walls contained a partially dissected bugbear, a partially transformed doppelganger, and a complete goblin dog – all preserved in alchemical fluids.

Beasts of Dark Reputation

Moving to the last unopened door from the lobby, the party entered the northern room. This room was filled with weird-looking preserved creatures. Two elaborately carved and painted sarcophagi stood against the east and west walls next to large inscribed chests, while a curiously out-of-place pile of chains lay in the center of the floor. Among the more unsavory creatures on display in this room was the tentacle of a froghemoth, a pickled intellect devourer, and a desiccated darkmantle.

Torquemada was very interested in this room and examined the chests closely. Satisfied they were not trapped, he motioned Haza to help him open them, only to find out that both were empty. Moving on to the sarcophagi, he was also disappointed to find it only contained a mummy.

The mummy was not as disappointed and immediately struck out at the surprised inquisitor, who staggered back under the undead assault. Ryszard was struck by a powerful blow from the creature, but the mantle of his holy paladinhood protected him from the cursed creature. Ryszard called upon the power of Iomedae and smited the mummy, while Haza called upon the radiant power of the sun goddess, Sarenrae. It was not a good day to be a mummy, as the power of two of the holiest of gods surged through it’s cursed body, sundering it from unlife and returning it to the embrace of true death.

Then the sarcophagi attacked Torquemada! It reached out with a psuedopod and pulled him close, seemingly adhered to his body. He struggled mightily as the mimic began to tear at him, and luckily was able to escape it’s grasp, as once more the party brought steel to bear against the shapechanger. Soon, it too lie motionless and dead on the floor. Amongst its wrappings, Torquemada noticed a golden glint, which was found to be a magical ring of the ram upon examination. Ryszard was presented with the item and resolved to put it to good use.

One door in this last room led north to a narrow pathway running up the side of the cliff to five towers that lay upriver, but the party had seen that the structure was many-storied as they approached, so before continuing on further, set out to further explore this building.

Suspecting some sort of secret door again, they quickly canvassed the four rooms on this level. Haza found the door in the Creatures of the Land room, and opened the door to find a spiral staircase beyond leading up to another level and down to the open air and what appeared to be a landing below hanging above the water.

Haza didn’t take much time to examine the view further, as something… no make that somethings, were climbing the stairs towards him.

Six homunculi were chained to the fleshy construct and flitted around its head on chains. The golem itself seemed to have no face or eyes, but still moved with definitive purpose as it glanced up the stairs at Haza, obviously “seeing” him. Haza quickly retreated back to the lobby, calling the others to battle as the golem and it’s flying entourage burst into the room, flinging aside museum cases in its eagerness to do battle.

The golem struck out with powerful fists, slamming the already battered party around the room. The monster was seemingly immune to spells, but the party rallied and concentrated their attacks on the chained homunculi. They were no match for the skilled combatants, and soon fell dead, their chained bodies dragging on the ground around the golem as it started to hesitate in its steps. As the last homunculus fell, it became clear that the creatures has acted as the “eyes” of the golem, as it was forced to cautiously sense where the party members were. Taking advantage of this, the group concentrated on ranged and reach attacks, and soon the hulking construct fell.

Haza then led the party to the secret door and showed them the stairwell. The spiral iron stair literally hung above the valley beneath the museum, connecting to a small stone terrace and a wooden door. Although the view was dizzying, the stair and terrace seemed stable and safe, and the group descended to the door below.

Pushing it open revealed a storeroom filled with outré objects – weird sculptures of shell or hair or sticks, crude paintings made on various animal hides, moss-covered boulders, and more bizarre items filled this room. Three large crates sat in the center of the room, open and empty, while three large, sealed, translucent black glass jars sat just inside the door. One appeared to contain a head preserved in liquid, while the others contained some kinds of mold or fungi. Torquemada was intrigued by the head, and opened the jar in an attempt to see the face. He did, and luck was on his side, for it was the head of a sea hag and had he slower reflexes, surely would have fallen prey to its hideous gaze, potent even after death.

Torquemada decided it would be best to leave the rest of the jars alone for now.

So it was that the party returned upstairs, ascending the staircase to the second floor, where the museum seemingly continued.

Things of the Air

Three dissected, preserved harpies sat in huge bell jars in this room, along with jars containing four stuffed bats, the skeletal front legs and head of a griffon, and the preserved wing of a roc which was slowly losing its feathers. A ladder led up to a trapdoor, while a door led north.

Taking the door, the party entered another large room. This one was crammed with crates and boxes containing curios like animal bones, stuffed birds, and more mundane preserved creatures.

Back to the south, Haza took the Haza, throwing open the trapdoor to an empty attic and triggering a dense acid fog which began to pour down through the trapdoor. He quickly retreated, warning the group back until the spell worked its way down the staircase to dissipate in the open air of the landing.

Convinced now that the museum held no more secrets or surprises, the party returned to the Beasts of Dark Reputation room and headed outside to the cliff and the towers beyond.

Pharast 26th, 4711

3 + 1

Having returned to the Purple Stallion for some R&R, the party ran into Vincent DuMont in the common room. The fighter acknowledged the group as they entered and moved closer to speak with them. Vincent explained that Kendra Lorrimor, having business back in Ravengro, had told him she had no further need of his services at that time. Knowing that Vincent had exceptional fighting skills, and not sure of what might await them at the legendary Schloss Caromarc or on the journey there, the group invited the skilled warrior to join them on their journey later in the week. Not having any immediate prospects on the horizon, Vincent readily agreed.

Afterward, Torquemadareturned to his room to find a personal note from Kendra. She said that she was sorry to have missed him, and that she hoped he would return to visit her in Ravengro when his business in Lepidstadt had concluded.

The party spent the night relaxing and Ryszard Saul rose early the next morning, stopping at a small shrine of Iomedae to tithe for his goddess. Afterwards, he made his way to the trade district, searching for something, and finding his goal waiting under a sign proclaiming “Arthus Fletchery.” Inside, he spoke at length with the proprietor, emerging some time later with a fine yew composite bow slung over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, not satisfied with their exchange the previous night, Torquemada decided to speak with Judge Embreth Daramid once more. Upon arriving, he was ushered inside her well-appointed townhouse and met the cool stare of the Judge as she entered the sitting room.

Torquemada asked the Judge once more what her interest was in their journey to Schloss Caromarc, and she responded by asking what he knew about the Esoteric Order of The Palatine Eye.

“Wasn’t that the title of one of the books we returned to you?” he asked, going on to explain what he knew of the Order.

“But why would the Order be interested in Alpon Caromarc?”

“If he truly is the creator of the Beast – the “Father” as it put it – it would certainly be in everyone’s interest to ensure that the Beast were protected from those who would still wish it… him… harm. It would also be worthwhile to ensure that the Beast did no harm to others either. Even though the Beast was proclaimed innocent of the crimes it was charged with at trial, it has been attributed with many atrocities over the years, as well as caught breaking into the University and committing theft. It obviously has the potential to cause great damage if free, and if Count Maromarc can control the creature or limit it in some fashion, it would be a boon to all."

“But there are other concerns as well. The stolen Seasage Effigy was never recovered, so that in itself is suspicious. Also there is still the Whispering Way. While you were able to save Ravengro from the horrors within Harrowstone Prison, I hardly think that unleashing a hoard of vengeful spirits upon the town of Ravengro was their ultimate goal in Ustalev. I do not know if the Way was involved somehow with the Beast, but I do not like coincidences.”

The conversation continued, and Torquemada acquiesced in helping Judge Daramid. She asked him to convince his friends and he stated he would do so with all haste. Torquemada left to return to the Stallion, having re-earned the trust of the Judge.

Pharast 27th, 4711

From the Dark Tapesty

He awoke the next morning to find a package waiting for him downstairs at the bar. Torquemada opened the large crate, revealing a strange hunk of blueish-black metallic rock, the likes of which he had never seen before. A small note marked “D” stated it was in payment for “services to be rendered.”

“I think it’s adamantine,” said Ryszard. I was just inquiring about the city the other day for anyone who had adamantine weapons, but I don’t know how anyone would have…"

Not entirely sure of the rock’s composition, the party took the boulder via horse and wagon to a nearby smith, who promptly exclaimed that it was indeed adamantine! When asked what he could make from the rare meteoric ore, however, he demurred, saying that while he had heard of the metal and knew about it’s legendary properties, that he had no experience working with it. He did know of a nearby smith with whom he could consult, and was willing to send word to Jorfa, the dwarven smith of Ravengro, for her assistance. Ryszard was not pleased at this turn of events, all to keenly remembering his encounters with her, but finally agreed at the urging of Haza and Torque.

Torque then explained his encounter with Embreth the previous day, and all agreed that this was likely payment from Judge Daramid for agreeing to check on the situation with Count Caromarc and the Beast.

The rest of the day was spent in preparing for the overland journey to the northeast of Lepidstadt to visit the former Count of Vieland, Alpon Caromarc in his mansion Schloss Caromarc.

Gozran 2nd, 4711

The Trouble with Trolls

The trip to the Dipplemere Swamp took four days on horseback, but the weather was fairly pleasant and no encounters were had during their travels. It was an early Sunday afternoon when the party crested a hill and saw their destination waiting before them.

A deep, rocky gorge lay ahead, where a peculiar building, or rather group of buildings, clung to steep cliff edges above half a dozen plummeting waterfalls. Beyond a fortified gatehouse, a stone bridge arched gracefully over the raging torrents below. Perched precariously beyond this was a fine, fortified manse and a ruined building that appeared to have partially collapsed into the river below. A slender rope bridge, replacing the fallen remnants of a stone bridge, linked to a strange tower pierced with beautiful stained glass windows depicting bizarre beasts. A further building teetered to the north of this, but how it was reached was impossible to see from their vantage point. Far above, a great tower rose from an isle of stone to the sky, ending in a great steeple topped with a huge lightning conductor.

The two-story stone gatehouse led into the castle, topped with a crenellated tower at each corner. The main gate was closed.

However, the gatehouse was not unoccupied. For standing outside of the closed gates were two humanoids and two canines. As the party slowly moved closer, however, it became clear that these were not humans, as they were much too large. And too monstrous.

The figures were trolls, and the large, troll-like canines with oversized jaws with them were clearly the rarely seen trollhounds.

The party paused and discussed the situation. Perhaps they were guardians placed there by the Count, as he was notorious for not welcoming visitors and was known to have strange guardians?

As such, Ryszard volunteered to approach the gatehouse, seeking parlay with the trolls and their hounds. Haza offered to accompany him, and soon both men were walking over the hill towards the manse, while Vincent and Torquemada waited in a nearby grove of trees.

Suddenly, a deep howling filled the air, as the trollhounds rushed forward towards Ryszard and Haza and the trolls starting hurling large rocks at the duo. Amidst the flurry of activity, more rocks flew from the second story of the gatehouse as well as an enormous crossbow bolt that came winging from a tower up high. Ryszard and Haza attacked the trollhounds, mortally wounding one before being forced to retreat under the unrelenting missile assault. As they ran back to safety, the remaining hound could be seen limping back to the gate, as the trolls did not seem interested in pursuing them.

From a safe distance, the party yelled down to the trolls, asking for an audience with Count Caromarc. With a deep throaty voice one responded, “This place belongs to Grork!” Laughter followed, but naught else.

The party discussed their next steps, unsure as to why the trolls were there. If they were guardians for Count Alpon, why did they attack? If they were not allied with Caromarc, why did they not pursue them as was their wont?

Finally, it was decided to attempt the gatehouse once more. Approaching stealthily from the treeline, they party made their way to the now-seemingly abandoned gatehouse. The doors were barred from within, and no sounds could be heard.

Vincent said he would attempt to climb to the top and thence open the doors from within. Shedding himself of his lucern hammer, he quickly ascended the smooth stone like a spider, and was soon standing on the roof.

Four towers stood before him, with stairs within winding down. Vincent took flight down the stairs and entered the main room below.

The gates opened on a broad chamber with a vaulted roof. Two large fires burned in the room, and spiral stairways stood in each corner. The gate on the far side of the room was seemingly barricaded with timber and furniture.

Four trolls and a trollhound were crouched in here, obviously waiting for an attempt at breaching the front gates. They glanced up as Vincent stopped on the stairs, and roared as they fell in pursuit of him.

Vincent reached the top and yelled for assistance as the trolls began emerging from the stairwells. Haza used the rope of climbing and everyone swarmed up the rope. Everyone but Haza, who’s unfamiliarity with ropes haunted him yet again. If only these people had portable “Hazas” for climbing!

Atop the roof, the battle raged hot with the trolls and the party exchanging heavy attacks. Haza finally gained the roof, only to be bull rushed back off and into space by the largest of the trolls – the aforementioned Grork! Haza hit the ground 20 feet below hard, but was soon able to stir himself to battle once more.

It was a pitched battle, but the party slowly gained the upper hand, and one-by-one the trolls fell. Torque made good use of his acid splash magic to ensure the trolls could not regenerate back from death, and soon the fight was over.

Return of the Hound

The party now surveyed the area and noticed the curious barricades that the trolls had erected against both sets of gate. As the group ascended to the roof once more, the answer to that question was seen waiting below beyond the far gate.

A slender stone bridge could be seen arching gracefully over a roaring waterfall here, linking the gatehouse to a fortified manor house that clung to the cliff on the far side. In the middle of the bridge sat a Flesh Golem Hound.

Now they understood why the trolls had holed up here – they were afraid of the canine construct also!

But now the party had to find a way to bypass the hound themselves. Plans were discussed and discarded as the day wore on before a plan was derived involving trapping the hound in the gatehouse proper. However, the golem had other plans, as it did not take the bait offered by the party – it seemed disinterested in pursuing them and remained sitting in the center of the bridge, obviously guarding it as originally instructed.

So a frontal assault came next. Ryszard used alchemical weapon blanch on his arrows, and provided ranged support from the gatehouse roof, as Haza and Vincent moved toward the golem, with Torquemada backing them up. As they reached the center of the bridge, the golem finally reacted and rushed forward, it’s massive jaws snapping at them. Ryszard’s arrows flew on the wing, but almost all of them missed the mark, and it was up to the melee squad to fight off the construct. The hound finally fell to their blades, and its body was pushed off the bridge to fall into the raging torrents below.

The path forward was clear.

The Guardian of Air

The arched bridge ended at a small cobbled terrace with a curious looking iron door depicting a scowling sun being devoured by ravenous clouds. To the left, two hundred feet below, a huge waterfall plummeted into the depths.

Torquemada checked the door, finding it both locked and trapped. The lock itself was extremely complex and beyond the ability of Torque to disable. As for the trap, it was magical in nature and seemingly triggered by opening the door. There was no way to disable it from this side.

Vincent once again put his climbing skills to good use, and nimbly climbed up the manse to reach the roof far above. Unfortunately there was no means of entry into the building from there, and only a narrow bridge lay beyond the building on the other side.

Then Ryszard booted the door.

As it flew open, a huge inrush of air materialized directly above the group, coalescing rapidly into a swirling vortex of wind. The huge air elemental immediately struck out, it’s punishing fists slamming into Ryszard and Haza. The party fought back briefly, but the elemental’s power was overwhelming, and soon the group split up – Haza running back to the gatehouse while Torque and Ryszard ducked inside the open iron door. Meanwhile, Vincent had seen the situation below and wisely ducked back out of sight on the roof.

The air elemental chased after Haza, who was now hiding in one of the twisted stairwells in the gatehouse. However, the elemental seemed to know where he was and reached up after him, forcing him to retreat further to the roof. In the blink of an eye the elemental was on the roof – it’s speed was incredible – attacking Haza once again! He desperately called upon the healing powers of Sarenrae as the monster pummeled him further. It was a battle he could not win, and he retreated once again into the stairwells. Once again the monster stalked him, but was unable to find its prey. Frustrated, it returned to the bridge and attacked Torquemada and Ryszard in the great hall.

Luckily for the party, the magic that had summoned the elemental was waning. With a final rush of air, it departed the material plane, leaving the group battered and bruised but still alive.

Pharast 26th, 4711

The Chase

Sensing that the crowd was not going to be swayed by mere obfuscation, Torquemada headed back to the Purple Stallion to get his gear. Now dressed as a Holy Inquisitor of Iomedae once more, he started back towards the factory. As he headed past the courthouse square, he felt a small hand fall on his shoulder.

It was a smallish woman, well-dressed and proper. She introduced herself as Doctor Katarina Vilt – a lecturer from Lepidstadt University – and explained that Doctor Montagnie Crowl had sent her to assist Torquemada and company with their ongoing investigation. Torque asked for help with gaining access to the factory, and she told him to lead the way.

Torque led the way, but only for a few moments, before she drew a spiked mace from her robes and sneak attacked the Inquisitor. Torque staggered in pain and then felt the venom burning in his veins also. He turned to retaliate, but the woman was already running down a nearby alley.

Torquemada set off after the treacherous woman, and the chase was on! Down the alley, out into a crowded street in the tavern district. People were milling about outside of the taverns, talking about the ongoing trial of the Beast, and Torque deftly dogged around the crowds as the Doctor shoved people out of the way. Down the street she ran, into another alley, where a series of clothesline swung in the air, blocking sight of his quarry. Thinking quickly, he pulled his blade and slashed through the ropes and laundry, and caught sight of the woman running down the next street.

Suddenly, Torque realized that there was a shortcut nearby, and cut through a courtyard to almost cut off the doctor as she ran by. Realizing that Torquemada was close, she scurried up a drainspout and climbed up a steep roof. Torque followed, climbing quickly to close the gap even further, but not gaining on the slick slate surface. Finally reaching the top and sliding down the other side, Torque saw the woman just ahead down the street, climbing over a tall fence. Torque had now fallen behind, and wasted no time on the wooden fence, instead lowering his shoulder and bashing his way through the thin wood. Clambering up from the ground, he spied the woman just ahead, and watched as she unlocked and opened the gate to Vorkstag & Grine’s Chymic Works factory, disappearing inside!

Vorkstag’s Return

As Torque slowly scaled the outside walls, unwittingly following in their footsteps, Ryszard and Haza had begun searching the upstairs section of the factory, unawares of what had just occurred with Torquemada.

They were surprised when the doctor appeared on the walkway and immediately attacked them with a spiked mace. Falling back, the duo quickly recovered and fought off the assault, but as they went to counterattack, the woman deftly leaped out onto the nearby chemical vats with unearthly prowess. A tossed sphere came winging its way at Ryszard, and the bomb exploded in chemical fire, scorching the paladin. Ryszard responded with triple arrow strikes, and Haza brought the power of Sarenrae to bear.

As the battle continued, the woman disappeared into thin air. She was now invisible! Haza methodically fought his way forward, but she was not to be found. That is until she reappeared on the wall above Ryszard, dropping down and backstabbing him.

By this time Torquemada had scaled the building and made his way downward through the tower, appeared now on the walkway with his companions.

Suddenly, a number of curious creatures appeared on the walkway, having climbed a ladder from below. Ivory tusked, with insectile chitin, matted fur, and scaly flesh, all combined in a hideous humanoid shape. They were mongrelmen.

Torquemada rushed forward, flinging his body directly into the lead mongrelman, slamming him backward against the others behind him, and their screams echoed through the factory room as they fell off the ladder to their death on the floor far below.

Now, the doctor leapt over the railing, landing deftly on the floor below and heading through a door in the basement.

Torquemada, now invisible himself, tied off a rope and slid down to the basement level, followed closely by Haza and Ryszard. Through the door, into a storage area, Torque led the way, into a downward sloping corridor and into a water-flooded room, where zombies erupted from the water as more bombs flew into the group, burning with alchemical acid.

But the zombies were no match for the holy power of Sarenrae’s priest, Haza, and in short order the woman herself was knocked unconscious and taken captive.

It was then that Torquemada noticed something unusual about the woman. Her skin was loose, and as he touched it, came off in his hand. As the skin peeled off like paper, a hideous sight was revealed. The woman was in fact, a creature of legend – a skin stealer!

Healing the skin stealer back to health, the group questioned the creature. Now identified as the mysterious Vorkstag, it was reluctant at first to answer any questions. However, the large blood caiman bite scar on it’s shoulder clearly revealed its part in the past events, and soon the Holy Inquisitor of Iomedae was able to wring a confession from Vorkstag.

He explained that he had been stealing body parts for sale to numerous individuals, including a number of prominent people in Lepidstadt from the University, as well as one Doctor Brada, formerly of Sanctuary. He admitted to disguising himself as the Beast of Lepidstadt to carry out his work, and also admitted to setting fire to Sanctuary over a “disagreement” with Doctor Brada over money. Vorkstag also disclosed that there was a secret exit from the factory, hidden behind a secret door in the underground storage room.

Satisfied with their collar, the group set out to finish investigating the factory.

In the Chymic Works

The underground storage room contains several dozen crates, a few coffins, lots of straw, and several huge bell jars. In the crates Haza found:

5 pots of bladeguard

10 doses of bloodblock

5 applications of silver weapon blanch

5 applications of cold iron weapon blanch

1 application of adamantine weapon blanch

Meanwhile, Ryszard’s search of Grine’s room upstair revealed four bottles of liquid (later identified as antitoxin) and a trapped strongbox, which Ryszard clumsily tripped, but luckily avoided the poisonous dust.

The trio then moved to Vorkstag’s room. It appeared to be the study of a scholar. A roll-top desk with a leather chair stood against one wall, holding a variety of alchemical equipment and surrounded by hundreds of books piled on every available surface. A narrow cot was crushed into one corner behind a wall of books, and a door stood in the north wall.

A combination alchemy lab, library, and bedchamber, this room was almost fastidiously clean except for the heaps of books everywhere. A large bell jar atop the desk contained the alchemically preserved head and shoulders of a human man, as well as:

3 packets of flash powder

5 pots of alchemical grease

The north door was locked, but Vorkstag had the key. Beyond the locked door, a tiny room held a single object — a large oak cabinet.

Inside, were dozens of skins…

Torquemada also found a false back behind the macabre collection, which he slid aside to reveal:

500 gp in assorted coins

a silver drinking cup inlaid with obsidian worth 400 gp

a syringe of six vials of alchemical elixir

Amongst the skins, was a grotesque, deformed skin of a 8-foot-tall mongrelman, made up of flesh, fur, and scales and covered with fungal boils and hideous puss-filled eruptions — which the skin stealer obviously wore to impersonate the Beast of Lepidstadt.

Packing up the evidence and taking their captive in tow, the trio returned to the Courthouse with them, only to walk into a mob outside of the courthouse. A mob clamoring for the Beast to burn!

The Mob… Ruled

The crowd was ugly. Huddled around the courthouse itself and armed with torches and work implements, the situation was rapidly getting out of hand. The group hustled their prisoner and evidence past the crowd as their shouts continued… “Burn the Beast!” “Burn the Beast!” However, Torque noticed that the crowd was considerably smaller than when he was here previously. Then he noticed the circle of wagons across the square, lit up with bright fires and lanterns lights – it was the the Crooked Kin. They were putting on a loud and raucous show, much to the delight of the crowds gathering nearby – crowds drawn away from the mob outside the courthouse.

Pounding on the door, a terrified-looking guardsman finally opened up and let the group inside. They hustled Vorkstag into a cell downstairs and went up to hand over their evidence to Gustav Kaple, who was floored at what the party had discovered! He even admitted that the Beast might indeed be innocent after all!

Returning downstairs, the party found the guardroom deserted, just as a heavy blow fell upon the front doors. The mob could be heard outside as another hard blow slammed into the thick oak – a ram!

Acting quickly, Haza moved forward, and as the ram struck once more, he flung open the door as the mob outside were drawing it back for another go. Casting calm emotions, he explained to the good people of Lepidstadt that justice would best be served by their leaving. One by one, the crowd fell under his spell, even as a number of ringleaders took potshots with crossbows at the cleric. The ram was dropped with a thud as the group began to disband, some heading directly out of the square while others headed off to see what the Crooked Kin were doing. As they went, it was if all the air was let out of the rest of the mob. A few hotheads were still shouting and brandishing weapons, but as they realized that everyone else was leaving, they quieted down and soon disappeared also.

The mob had been broken.

A few minutes later, a large contingent of town guards arrived, looking around shamefacedly as Haza explained that their services were not needed. They left shortly thereafter, looking cowed but also slightly relieved…

Day Three: Sanctuary and the Final Verdict

10:00 a.m.: As the final day of the trial commenced, Chief Justice Khard reminded the crowd of the penalties of violence, and told them that he will clear the entire court if they do not behave. He also warned them that mobs do not rule Lepidstadt, and that should anyone threaten violence to any of the defense, he will have the person whipped out of town or hanged. He then requests the prosecution to describe the alleged events at Sanctuary.

10:30 a.m.: Witnesses for the Prosecution.The prosecution detailed the arson attack on the hospital of Sanctuary on Karb Isle 4 months ago, with prosecutor Otto alleging that the Beast set fire to the building, murdering Doctor Brada and his patients in the process, stating that only Brada’s loyal assistant Karl survived. Otto calls Karl to the stand to give his evidence.

12:30 p.m.: Witnesses for the Defense. Gustav called the party to present the evidence they found at Sanctuary, as well as their star witness, the skin stealer Vorkstag. Torquemada displaying the Shambling Man skin used by Vorkstag to impersonate the Beast of Lepidstadt, as well as showing Vorkstag’s blood caiman bite scar – the scar that the village elder of Morast saw inflicted on the “Beast” the night it was chased off. Ryszard also presenting Vorkstag’s Cabinet of Skins and Faces to the judges, and finally Torque persuaded Vorkstag to confess his role in the crimes once again.

2:30 p.m.: Closing Statements. As their closing statements, the prosecution asserted that the Beast was guilty of the murders in Morast, Hergstag, and Sanctuary. Otto claims that the Beast was a danger to society, and was a monster that should be destroyed. He recommended punishment in accordance with traditional law—execution by burning in the Punishing Man. Gustav asserted that the prosecution’s evidence is not enough to prove the Beast guilty of any of the crimes in Morast, Hergstag, or Sanctuary. He recommended the Beast be freed immediately.

The judges called for a break and left for their chambers.

An hour after the justices left to deliberate, they returned looking grim. The Herald called for order, and the crowd immediately hushed. Chief Justice Khard stood and announced the verdict.

“We have heard the evidence presented before us, and thank Pharasma that we did so, for without this trial there would have been a most terrible miscarriage of justice. There are many cruelties in the world, but to lie and blame another for one’s crimes is the most terrible of sins. We have asked ourselves a question—who is the monster here? Is it this creature before us, with its broken body and terrible form, or is it we, the people of Lepidstadt, with our bigotry and lies?

The Beast is innocent!”

Aftermath

Judge Khard called for the guards to immediately release the prisoner, and as the manacles fell from its arms and legs, the Beast stood to its full height and turned to face the party.

“You are my best friends in the world. I wish to visit my father. He does not enjoy visitors, but I think in this case, he will make an exception. Please meet me in 7 days at Schloss Caromarc to the northeast. I will meet you there.”

Judge Embreth Daramid came forward and ordered the guards to prepare an escort for the Beast – safe passage from the city to the outskirts of town, for even as she spoke, the crowds outside began to chant once again, calling for mob justice.

As she turned to leave, a clerk came up to the party with a note, asking them to meet Judge Daramid later that evening.

Later that night, at Embreth’s townhouse, she rewarded the party with their agreed-upon payment of 100 platinum coins. She then asked what the party would do next, and when they said they were visiting the Beast at his request at Schloss Caromarc, she had the following information to offer.

She explained that Schloss Caromarc wass the dwelling of Count Alpon Caromarc, the former ruler of Vieland who abdicated his position when the Palatinates threw off the heavy yoke of the aristocracy. An eccentric recluse, Count Caromarc had built a dwelling that both attracted and deterred visitors. Known as the Hanging House, Schloss Caromarc lay to the northeast of Dippelmere Swamp, and was actually several buildings built into the walls of a gorge above a waterfall. Although the lower parts of the house were as luxurious as one might find in any city, the further up the gorge one goes, it was rumored that the more treacherous and inhospitable the buildings become. Seemingly paranoid, the eccentric Count Caromarc also had, it is rumored, trapped parts of his castle to prevent theft, as well as constructed guardians to protect him.

Judge Daramid asked the party if they would to another task for her, but Torquemada took umbrage at her attitude from the night prior. He refused to help if she did not tell him what her role in this matter was, but she refused to share that information. Haza agreed, and the party left without further discussion on the matter.

Pharast 25th, 4711

The Sanctuary

The journal to the burned ruins of Sanctuary did not take long – the institution was merely 3 miles to the north of Lepidstadt along the Lesser Moutray river. A narrow track followed the western shore of the river, passing through depressingly gray marshland before the party arrived at the lonely ruins of Sanctuary on Karb Isle.

The sad remains of this broken building lay on a spur of land jutting into the river. The burnt timbers of a large house sagged into the undergrowth of nettles and thistles. Nature had taken back this charred ruin, as if trying to erase dark memories. Nearby, a small cluster of gravestones jutted from the weeds.

There were 12 gravestones in all, with simple markers all noting the same date – Neth 10, 4710 – from 4 months ago. Karl had stated that there had been 12 patients at Sanctuary when the fire occurred, and that the body of Doctor Brada had not been recovered, and this seemed to lead some credence to his tale.

A quick search of the ruins did not reveal much, for much of the manse was covered in thick, charred ash and burnt timber. Only after a closer investigation was anything of interest uncovered.

First, a small hole, perhaps 3’ around, was found in the floor on the south side of the building. It appeared to open into a stone shaft leading downward 15’ into darkness below.

Second, Torquemada uncovered a small metal lockbox, it’s lock melted into the lockbox itself, making it impossible to open normally.

A Light in the Darkness

Haza checked out the hole, dropping a light stone down it, revealing a flagged stone floor perhaps 30’ below – possibly a basement. Meanwhile, Ryszard and Torquemada were trying to break open the melted lockbox and were having little success. As such, Haza decided to intervene and went with the strategy of working on the box hinges. Alas, he did not success in his attempts either.

Finally, the group was able to pry open the stubborn box, revealing a thick sheaf of blackened and charred papers. Torquemada immediately began trying to sift through the material, looking for any kind of recognizable name or information that might help their investigation.

Meanwhile, Haza returned to the hole only to discover that his light spell had curiously expired – only darkness lay below. He once again cast his spell on a stone, dropping it back into the hole, while the party set about readying their climbing gear for the descent.

Having secured the rope, Haza took up point, only to stop short as he peered into the darkness below. Once again, his light spell was gone.

Casting light once again, Haza rapidly descended into the hole, finding himself in a stone-flagged cellar filled with barrels and crates, and as his feet hit the floor – apparently monsters. Creatures rushed forward from their hiding places, ragged claws tearing into his flesh, paralyzing him even as he screamed for help! Ryszard and Torquemada heard his cut-off cry and looked down to see the distinctive forms of ghouls attacking their helpless companion, while one of the undead picked up Haza’s light rock, taking the lid off a nearby barrel and sealing the rock inside. Torque wasted no time sliding down the rope, only to fall to his knees puking as the stench of the ghasts – not ghouls! – overwhelmed him. Meanwhile, Ryszard threw caution to the find and jumped down into the hole, landing hard but able to attack the undead monsters before they could do further damage to Haza. But Haza was not completely helpless and began to recover as the ghasts pressed in on the party. Although the hungry horrors attacked viciously, they were no match for the divine power of the party, and soon lay silent and still on the stone floor.

A quick search of the basement revealed a grisly discovery – a ghastly trophy made of burnt heads dangling on chains from an iron candelabrum hung from the ceiling near the shaft. A nearby table was covered in broken glassware, although one vial was found empty but intact, bearing a label “Vorkstag and Grine, Chymickal Bleach." Torquemada seized upon this item, and wanted to return to Lepidstadt to see if this company could be found. The party agreed, decided there was nothing else of value to be gained in the ruins of Sanctuary and climbed back out of the cellar.

But first, Torquemada wanted to finish looking at the charred papers in the lockbox. Unfortunately, Torque did not have the same Linguistics skill as his hopeful paramour Kendra, and was not able to make sense of the charred remains after poring over the remains for an hour.

As night had fallen, Ryszard had set up a patrol, on the lookout for any other threats. As Torquemada was finally getting ready to leave, Ryszard noticed that he was being watched from the nearby river. He sensed a great evil lurking in the waters and went to warn the others. When they returned in force, however, no sign of the creature could be found…

Until the massive troll erupted from the dark waters nearby and rushed headlong into the group, it’s claws tearing and rending Torquemada as he fought to escape the troll’s crushing grasp. The battle was joined by Haza and Ryszard, with Haza unleashing the burning powers of Sarenrae in an attempt to stop the regenerating monster. It was a fierce battle, with the party receiving many wounds from the troll before they were able to drive it back into the dark waters.

But there was no time to rest and nurse wounds, as the clock was still ticking and there was yet work to be done in Lepidstadt.

The Chymic Works

The group returned to Lepidstadt and were able to easily find someone who had heard of Vorkstag and Grine’s Chymic Works. They followed their directions to the southeast side of town – home to many factories and industrial buildings, and soon found themselves outside the gates of the Chymic Works.

A tall, iron chimney belched yellow clouds into the sky from a small brick factory. Large leaded windows arched in a dozen places on its outer walls, but they were so begrimed as to be opaque. A large gate opened onto an inner courtyard beneath a sign proudly proclaiming “Vorkstag and Grine, Chymic Works.” The building had two floors and a tower, topped by a lightning rod.

Boldly striding forward, Torquemada noticed a signal bell beside the gate, and rang it loudly. A minute or so passed, and then a door opened up on the second story – apparently a loft above the courtyard – and a dark figure asked what they party wanted. Torquemada replied that they were working on official business for the court and demanded to speak with someone about the ongoing trial. He was curtly rebuffed and told that the factory was closed for the evening. Torque tried to bluff his way further, but the closing door made it clear that the conversation was over.

Torque was miffed to the say the least, and tried to force open the gates, but they proved to be too big and secure for that to have any success. So it was decided that the party would attempt to scale the courtyard walls – the glass-topped brick walls. However, Torquemada had another plan and left to seek outJudge Embreth Daramid once again.

Meanwhile, Ryzard made a go at climbing the factory wall, but was not able to gain much purchase. Haza had more success, but not much. Finally, Haza remembered that the party had a rope of climbing, and decided it was time to put the magical rope to good use. It snaked up over the wall and Haza was able to ascend the brick, although he cut himself badly on the glass shards embedded on the wall-top. He smashed the pieces to dust as Ryszard made the climb, and both dropped down into the dimly lit courtyard.

Hounded

As Ryszard and Haza turned to move towards the factory proper, it came bounding out of the shadows of a nearby wagon, silently running on padded paws. It resembled a dog, albeit one made out of assorted body parts cobbled together with arcane sorcery, and it leaped at Ryszard, its powerful jaws tearing at the paladin.

Haza and Ryszard responded in kind, but Ryszard knew that they were outmatched when a point-blank shot dead on target simple bounced off the creature’s skin, only causing a minimal wound.

Decided discretion was the better part of valor, the duo turned and fled back up their rope, leaving the disturbingly silence hound watching their ascent from the courtyard below.

Time for a new plan.

Time to climb to the roof!

Snapping into it

Ascending the wall once again, Ryszard and Haza this time went for the factory roof. From their vantage point, they could see a tower rising near the smokestack, and made their way across the slippery roof towards that structure.

With the aid of their magic rope, they soon stood atop the tower itself. The roof above this was topped with a copper lightning rod in the form of a raven eating a wolf. A trapdoor led downward into a small room. Slatted timber openings covered the windows of this towertop room, 60 feet above the ground. Another trapdoor led further down into the tower.

Suddenly, from out of the room’s corners, a small reddish creature came flying at the party, it’s jaws gaping impossibly wide showing long, venomous fangs.

The Snapjaw Homonculus sank it’s teeth deeply into Ryszard’s arm, tearing it open in a splash of crimson blood, as the duo fought off the flying construct. The room’s narrow confines did not allow it much room to manuever, and it was struck down by Haza as it attempted to to bite Ryszard again.

Through the next trapdoor another ladder led down into a room seemingly filled with art and artifacts. As Haza stepped onto the ladder to investigate further, a sonic burst trap went off and two more Snapjaw Homonculi flew up through the trapdoor, attacking once more.

But once again, Haza and Ryszard prevailed, and the bodies of two more Homonculi lay dormant on the floor.

Finally descending into the next room, they spent a few moments looking through the assorted items within – mummies from distant lands, paintings and sculptures, totems, and much more. More importantly however, was yet another trapdoor, this one leading down into the factory itself.

Opening this last door, Haza stared down into a room that was as much an abattoir as a bedchamber, containing not only a four-poster bed, but also numerous workbenches and alchemical gear. The walls were lined with shelves and strange looking objects in jars of liquid. Bits of rags littered the floor, and the air was heavy with the stench of spoiled food mixed with acrid chemicals.

On the bed, a small, dark figure slept.

Grine

At first glance, he seemed to be a gnome, but he was not. Haza had heard of such creatures, and knew him for what he was. He was a creature that lurked in the black places deep below the surface of the world. He was a Dark Creeper.

Around his neck, on a silver chain, hung a holy symbol. Or rather an unholy symbol. A symbol of Norgorber.

Haza crept forward, hoping to dispatch the cleric of Norgorber while he slept. Unfortunately, clad as he was in plate armor, Haza’s stealthiness was questionable, and the eyes of his target flew open as Haza lunged forward with an attack. Ryszard followed, but the Dark Creeper was awake now, and rolled out of the bed, lashing out with an envenomed hand axe at his attackers. The duo pressed their advantage, but suddenly darkness filled the room, although it seemed not to hamper the Creeper at all!

In the darkness, a door banged open. He was escaping! Haza rushed forward onto a wooden walkway, and sensed a large open space looming out in front of him. He turned left and moved along the wall, turning a corner before emerging from the dark and found himself in an enormous room in the factory.

This chamber occuped a whole side of the building, from the cellar level below up to the roof high above. Seven iron vats, each ten feet across, occupied the majority of the room. Furnaces fueled the vats at cellar level, while at the ground floor level a series of planks had been laid across the vats to allow passage to a ladder that led to an iron walkway on the level where Haza stood. Two ladders also allowed access from the planks to the floor below. The air in the chamber was cloying and acidic.

Suddenly, out of the darkness came Ryszard, stopping himself as he ran up to Haza. Both realized that the threat was behind them as the darkness moved forward to envelop them, Ryszard crying out in pain as the Creeper sneak attacked him with his poisoned axe.

The fight spilled out into a larger area as Haza opened a nearby door. This room overlooked the courtyard and had a retractable timber and iron crane to lower goods into wagons below through a sliding wooden door – the door the dark figure originally appeared in to answer Torquemada’s summons earlier in the evening. Presently the room had only a few wooden cases in it, giving Haza and Ryszard the chance to put some space between themselves and their mysterious attacker.

Ryszard attacked the darkness, his arrows flying out in vain at the Creeper as it played a game of cat and mouse with the duo. A burst of negative energy lashed out at the two, and although not a powerful blast, both were in bad shape from the many wounds taken at the hands of their near-invisible attacker.

And then Ryszard’s senses reached outward, searching for a telltale sign of the presence of evil, and was rewarded for his effort. While not providing an exact location, he was now able to sense the evil cleric’s general position, which allowed him and Haza to finally counterattack.

And then Ryszard sensed the Creeper retreating, and as it moved towards and opened one of the outer doors, Ryszard rushed forward, throwing his full weight at where he thought the creature was. He was rewarded with a satisfying impact and grunt as he collided with the Creeper, sending them both flying towards the open door. Haza was able to grab Ryzard and pull him back from the edge, but the Dark Creeper was not so lucky. He flew through the door and landed hard on the ground below, the magical darkness disappearing as life fled his body, but only to be replaced a few seconds later with a blast of bright light that seared the night and ripped the body of the Creeper known as Grine into nothingness. The burst of light temporarily blinded Ryszard, but he recovered a minute later. The two bound their wounds and discussed their next plan of action.

Meanwhile, back at stately Embreth Manor…

While this was happening, Torquemada was wending his way back to the house of Judge Embreth. Along the way, he passed by the courthouse, and sure enough, the crowd was growing – both in size and in anger. The situation was turning ugly and it seemed that Haza was right, if something was not done before the night was out, mob justice would be felt that night in Lepidstadt.

Arriving at his destination, Torquemada knocked upon the door of Judge Embreth, the brass knocker ringing out hollowly in the silent night. Minutes passed, but finally a servant opened the door. Torquemada explained that he needed to speak with the Judge, and was persuasive enough that he was told to wait while the Judge was summoned.

Perhaps ten minutes later, Judge Embreth opened the door and greeted Torquemada. He went on to explain that he needed to bring in the proprieters of Vorkstag and Grine in for questioning concerning the trial of the Beast. Judge Embreth wanted to know what was the basis of his claim. Torquemada then explained their findings at Sanctuary, including an empty vial of bleach from their factory. He also said that they had talked to someone at the factory, but had been rebuffed.

From the look on her face, Judge Embreth was not impressed. She explained that there was no basis to act on – an empty bleach vial was hardly reason to force oneself into a place of business. Torquemada argued his point, but the Judge was not convinced and told him coolly to turn his attention to finding some worthwhile evidence, and doing so quickly, as the final day of the trial was in a few hours, and would not be delayed to simply interview a citizen who happened to make bleach. Refusing to hear any more protestations, she turned and closed the door, ending the conversation.

Torquemada was unsure where to go next, so he returned to the Purple Stallion, with the intention of disguising himself to infiltrate the crowds outside of the courthouse.

Dressed now as a commoner, Torque made his way back to the courthouse, mingling in with the locals and trying to get some insight into the situation. He quickly found that it was bad and quickly getting worse. People were crying out to “Burn the Beast,” and worse. It was only a matter of time before it reached a boiling point.

Deciding it was time to act, Torque shouted out that the Beast had escaped, and had just been spotted heading towards the Spiral Cromlech. While a few locals moved off to investigate, Torque was shouted down by a number of others, who insisted that the Beast remained locked within the courthouse, and that it was about time for justice to be done…

“This crowd is ugly, even for Lepidstadt.” – Haza

Pharast 24th, 4711

Day One: Morast

The morning came early, and barrister Gustav Kaple was in a panic. His hair frazzled from a sleepless night, his wearied face was nonetheless much relieved when the party walked into the defense chamber. Gustav set out to review the information recovered from the scene of the attacks in Morast, and entered into evidence for the defense the following details:

Six of the graves in Morast’s boneyard have been robbed. (+0 on Diplomacy check).

Although the Beast was clearly seen to be bitten by a blood caiman, it has no scars from such an attack. (+10 on Diplomacy check).

Displaying the removed face of the poacher Nan Klebem (+0 on Diplomacy check).

A significant crowd had gathered around the Punishing Man at dawn, and a carnival atmosphere engulfed the courthouse. Five elderly, pale, and bookish clerks with ink-stained fingers had arrived early to legally accept and record new evidence for the trial, document the proceedings, and ensure procedure is followed to the letter. Shortly thereafter, the Herald of the Court, clad in black half-plate armor with a full-face visor arrived. The Herald was charged with calling out official announcements with the striking of a great gong, calling witnesses before the proceeding, and keeping order in the court.

The appointed prosecutor for the Palatinate of Vieland, Otto Heiger arrived next, with a trio of legal advisers, after which the three Justices began to arrive at the Courthouse in their coaches, surrounded by rings of guards.

Chief Justice Ambrose Khard was a dour man in his eighties, and spoke with a deep, commanding voice that suffered no nonsense in his court. The Chief Justice carried the court gavel — a mallet of black ebony the Justice uses to keep order — and wore a huge cartwheel ruff that made him look even more imposing. As Chief Justice, Khard had the power to have people removed from court, discount evidence, and issue punishments (up to hanging) for lying to the court.

Judge Aldaar was rumored to be a figure of terror for criminals on trial. Known as a hard-liner in the extreme, his merciless justice is feared throughout Ustalav. A former military general, Aldaar is infamous for his impalement of four score deserters under his command who fled a battle.

Judge Embreth Daramid was last to arrive. Already known to the party, the Judge was all business in the court, offering them only a curt nod as she ascended to her chair.

10:00 a.m.: The Trial of the Beast begans. A trio of guards leds the Beast into the court and shackled it to the large iron chair in the center of the courtroom to the jeers of the crowd.

10:10 a.m.: Opening of the Trial. Chief Justice Ambrose Khard commenced proceedings by laying out the rules of the court in a lengthy speech, interspersed with gongstrikes by the Herald. Khard concluded his speech by announcing that the good people of Lepidstadt have suffered many acts of terror and barbarity at the hands of the Beast of Lepidstadt for many years, and that while the Beast is doubtless responsible for numerous murders, the prosecution will focus on three recent cases to prove the Beast’s guilt during this trial.

10:30 a.m.: Opening Statements. Prosecutor Otto Heiger outlined his case. He alleged that the Beast was responsible for the murder of 10 people in the village of Morast a year ago, in addition to two other horrendous crimes that would be described as the trial continues. Barrister Gustav Kaple then made his case for the Beast’s innocence, a halfhearted attempt full of stutters and awkward pauses, all the while being jeered and booed by the baying mob in the gallery.

11:00 a.m.: Witnesses for the Prosecution. Otto first brought three locals from Morast, two young women and a man, to the stand. The trio described events as they saw them happen — that over a series of nights, the Beast came to the village and took people away; that a trap was finally laid for the Beast; that the Beast was driven into the swamp, and, they assumed, killed. Otto then called the village elder, Lazne, who led the mob that drove the Beast off. He confirmd the events related by the other three villagers.

12:30 p.m.: Witnesses for the Defense. Gustav calls the PCs to present the evidence they found in Morast. Haza presented the items previously admitted as evidence: the desecrated graves at the boneyard in Morast; the lack of blood caiman scarring clearly witnessed by the village elder Lazne; and the horrid and macabre detached face of Nan Klebem found in the boneyard.

2:00 p.m.: Court Recess. Chief Justice Khard brings the first day of the trial to a conclusion. As the Beast is led away, the baying crowd let their feelings be known as to the defense team.

In the defense chamber immediately after the day’s trial concluded, Gustav stated that the party did a great job presenting their evidence, but that they should not delay in their investigation and urged them to make haste to the village of Hergstag, the site of the Beast’s alleged attacks on children 7 months prior.

Gustav explained that the Beast’s second alleged crime was the murder of six children in Hergstag, formerly a small, religious farming community in the Dippelmere Swamp. The key witnesses for the prosecution were three sisters – Garrow, Starle, and Flicht – who now owned a small windmill on the outskirts of Lepidstadt.

Taking charge, Torquemada led the group downstairs to question the Beast about this crime. Reluctant at first, the Beast did not answer any questions, but finally quietly muttered the name Ellsa’s and became visibly upset. However, in its sorrow, its face tightens and the stitching pulled its jaw back into a grimace, making it look almost like the Beast was laughing. In fact, it seemed rather that the Beast is crying, though its eyes appeared incapable of producing true tears.

The Beast finally told a tale about living near Hergstag in the swamp and befriending a young girl named Ellsa. He went on to say that the girl was killed by a “ghost who stole their souls and walked at night.” He further explained that Ellsa and her friends called the ghost the “Honeyman,” presumably because they always smelled honey when it came hunting. The Beast would say nothing more, and next the party sought out the three sisters.

The sisters proved easy to track down, and told the party their sorrowful tale. All in their late forties, the three lived their entire lives in Hergstag. Each remembers the deaths. The village’s children vanished one by one, only to return as ghosts. Then one day the culprit was found — the Beast of Lepidstadt. It boldly walked into the village with one of the dead children, a girl named Ellsa. The witnesses all recall seeing the Beast laughing as it carried the child’s broken body. As soon as the locals saw the Beast, they set upon it with pitchforks, but try as they might they couldn’t catch it, and the Beast escaped into the swamp. The poor innocents it killed continued to haunt the village, and before long became too much for the locals, who soon abandoned the cursed village.

When asked if they had heard the children talk about a “Honeyman,” the sisters all responded negatively, although they had heard the children speaking about smelling honey, which was odd since there was no apiary in the village.

While seemingly truthful, Torquemada was not entirely convinced that they were telling the whole truth. When questioned further about the details, Starle revealed that of the six children who died, one — a girl named Karin — died in her own bed 2 days after the Beast was driven from Hergstag. Her father heard her screaming but by the time he reached her she was dead, without a mark on her and with no signs of entry.

Armed with this new bit of information, the party set out for the abandoned village 10 miles to the northwest of Lepidstadt. Travel was fairly swift upon horseback, and as evening fell the party entered Hergstag. Empty houses huddled below a tall hill, upon which stood what appeared to be a rotting scarecrow leaning on a scythe. Climbing the hill, the group verified it was a pumpkin – its pumpkin face carved with a leer and a sheep’s jaw hanging
flaccidly below.

Searching the area revealed a concealed door hidden nearby, leading down into a cave under the hill. Inside the cave, the skeletal remains of four children lay where they fell. The passage downward was narrow and tight, and far too small to admit a creature the size of the the Beast.

Ryszard and Haza said a few prayers over the bones, and collected them for burial.

Exiting the cave, the party moved down the hill into the village proper. The first few houses they entered were vacant and abandoned, with only a handful of items left behind to show that these houses had once been inhabited.

The next house they came to was in an altogether different state. As they approached the house, it seemed like something moved inside of a window. However, the front and rear doors were nailed shut and the lower windows were also secured from the outside.

Peering inside, the house appeared to be completely normal. Furniture was present, albeit under covers, and everything seemed to have been put in place. Either the house was still inhabited, or someone had left it in this condition.

Torquemada broke through one of the downstairs windows and entered the house. Although everything was intact, the house clearly was uninhabited at the time. A small kitchen and dining area led into a family space, where stairs led upwards to two small bedrooms – one for adults and one clearly for children. A quick search of the room revealed some artwork, signed by a young girl – Karin. This was the bedroom of the last little girl to die. The room was in perfect condition. The door was intact, and the window leading outside was unbroken. There was no sign of any damage to this room whatsoever. Whatever killed the little girl, it was not the handiwork of the Beast.

It was the handiwork of something far, far worse.

For as the party returned downstairs, a shadows twisted into a childs body and wreathed in black fire appeared before them and attacked Torquemada, it’s chilling incorporeal touch tearing through armor and flesh and stealing the very life essence from him.

It was a wraith. And five others followed.

Haza summoned the power of Sarenrae to burn the unlife from the wraiths, as Torquemada and Ryszard fought back against the undead monstrosities.

And like a tempest of shadows given form, a cloud of glowing red eyes with ghostly hornets buzzing among the dark shadows of its spectral form arrived with the drone of a hornet swarm and the sickly sweet stench of honeyed decay. The master wraith – Brother Swarm – had arrived to lead its children in a feast of life!

Desperate and wounded, the party fought back with all their puissant might. The holy wrath of Iomedae wrought damage amongst the wraith swarm, but it was the holy light of Sarenrae that led the way – burning deeply into the dark essence of Brother Swarm and tearing the undead apart.

As the master wraith faded and died, the children wraith rose as one and wailed their despair, turning and fleeing with all speed into the night, away from the holy fire of the Dawnflower.

The party regrouped and healed up from their terrible battle with the wraiths, and set out to return to Lepidstadt with the sure knowledge that the Beast was once again innocent of a crime.

Pharast 25th, 4711

Day Two: Hergstag

If anything, the crowd was larger today, and was alive with talk of yesterday’s events. As usual, the clerks arrived early to prepare the courtroom, and as the time approached 10:00 a.m., the other members of the court arrived. Today’s events whipped the crowd into a frenzy. They were clearly angered at the deaths of the children, and are even louder than yesterday. Gustav once again asked the party about their investigation in Hergstag, and admitted a number of items into evidence for the defense.

10:00 a.m.: The Trial of the Beast resumes. Chief Justice Khard gave another long-winded introduction and then asked the prosecution to outline the details of the alleged events in Hergstag.

10:30 a.m.: Witnesses for the Prosecution. The prosecution described the events that transpired in Hergstag 7 months ago, alleging that the Beast slew six children and, when caught, was driven from the village. Otto calls three former residents of Hergstag, the sisters Garrow, Starle, and Flicht, to give their eyewitness testimony of events in the village.

12:30 p.m.: Witnesses for the Defense. Gustav called the party to present any evidence they found in Hergstag. Ryszard began the proceedings, helped out by occasional testimony from Torquemada, presenting the evidence recovered from Hergstag: raising the question of why the Beast brought Ellsa’s body back and not the others; recovering the bodies of the four children from the wraith’s lair, which was too small to allow entrance for the Beast; using testimony from the three sisters to prove that Karin died 2 days after the Beast supposedly fled and was in her bed at the time; and pointing out that no entrances into Karin’s home were forced open prior to her death.

2:00 p.m.: Court Recess. Gustav once again congratulated the party, even admitting that he was beginning to think that the Beast was actually innocent after all!

The atmosphere in the courtroom was ugly as the members of the court began to file out of the room. Jeers, threats, and insults filled the air, directed not only at the Beast but also at the defense team. Haza recognized the danger growing in the heart of the people of Lepidstadt, as he was all too familiar with the mob mentality of his own homeland. Haza hurried over to Justice Embreth and informed her of his suspicions, and she immediately informed the Herald of the Court that the party would be spending the night in the courthouse to ensure the safety of the accused. Clearly, she believed the party to be a more effective deterrent in lieu of increasing the town guard presence in the building.

But there was still work to do, and Gustav told the group about the third crime of which the Beast stood accused – an arson attack on the asylum of Sanctuary on Karb Isle four months ago, which resulted in the fiery deaths of Sanctuary’s administrator, Doctor Brada, and all of his patients, and the blinding of the doctor’s assistant, Karl.

Karl was the key witness for the prosecution, and was said to be living in a small cottage by the river in Lepidstadt.

A few inquires brought the party to Karl’s home, and after introducing themselves as part of the legal defense team, were invited inside for bread and wine. As they ate, Karl described the last image he saw before the fire took his sight — a large, shambling beast escaping the burning hospital while he tried to save his beloved master. The creature was bulky and incredibly strong, standing 8’ tall, covered with scars, and wearing tattered clothing. Karl went on to explain that Doctor Brada had founded the institution to cure those unfortunate individuals afflicted with madness and physical deformity. The doctor and all twelve of his current patients, died that night. Karl further noted that the doctor’s body was not recovered from the ruins, but that a number of graves were dug nearby to hold the bodies of the patients that were.

As the party was heading out into the late afternoon sun, Karl warned them to be careful if they were heading to the ruins of Sanctuary. For Sanctuary sat near the Dippelmere Swamp, and sometimes undead rose from the murky waters at night to prey upon the newly dead.

“The one who derives advantage from the crime is the one most likely to have committed it.”

Pharast 22nd, 4711

Lepidstadt

Having enjoyed the hospitality of the Crooked Kin after their run-in with the Feaster in Watery Shadows, the party resumed their journey to the city of Lepidstadt along with their new-found friends. It was a sunny day, a rarity for Pharast in Ustalev, especially in the mountains. The city could be seen ahead as they approached from the west, following the last remnants of the Mountain road.

Off to the left of the city, a curious site could be seen. It was a series of standing stones arranged in a two alternating circles. The rings of menhirs were moon-white and surrounded a twisted, 16-foot-tall central spire of black rock. A most curious sight especially given its proximity to such a large city.

As the group meandered through the streets, Kaleb and company parted ways with the group, the former heading off to find the town center. Kendra Lorrimor and Vincent DuMont also went their own way – Kendra claiming to be tired and wanting to rest. Vincent suggested that they meet up later at the Purple Stallion Inn, and the party moved onward looking for directions to the University of Lepidstadt. Given the number of students and teachers, it wasn’t long before they found themselves on the campus, looking for the offices of one Dr. Montagnie Crowl, to whom they were to deliver a trio of books from the library of Professor Petros Lorrimor.

A Beast in the Night

Heading into the Department of Antiquities, the party was led up into the second floor workshop/library of Dr. Crowl, which was in state of disarray and destruction. Chairs, shelves, glassware, pottery, wooden figures, book, scrolls, and more were strewn about the room. While clearly efforts were currently underway to clean up the mess, it looked like a tornado had passed through the room.

Torquemada, Ryszard, and Haza were introduced to Dr. Montagnie Crowl, who apologized for the terrible state of his office, explaining that it was a bittersweet thing – for while his office was destroyed, it had paved the way for the capture of the legendary malevolent monster, the Beast of Lepidstadt! The doctor went on to explain that it had been caught after breaking into the building and stealing a curious relic called the Seasage Effigy. The Beast had been subdued by the local guardsmen and taken to the city jail, where it awaited it’s trial and subsequent burning, but there was no sign of the Seasage effigy.

Haza though it was passing strange that the Beast had been subdued in this room after stealing this idol, but that it had not been found or recovered from the person of the Beast, but to this point Dr. Crowl had no answer. He remained convinced that the idol was not valuable monetarily, and that it would only be a matter of time before it was recovered, given it’s unique appearance.

At this point the Doctor returned to business, asking to examine the books that the party had brought him at the bequest of Professor Lorrimor – the tomes On Verified Madness, Serving Your Hunger, and The Umbral Leaves. Torquemada was curious about the tomes, and the doctor explained that they all were tomes concerning great evils, and that they were best kept safe from harm and especially from those who would seek to exploit the knowledge contained within to do great evil.

Having concluded their business with the good doctor, the party asked if he knew of the whereabouts of one Judge Embreth Daramid. Crowl knew of her by reputation, and gave the party some general ideas where the local judges lived. Taking their leave, the group soon found themselves in a well-to-do district near the town center. A couple of inquiries led them to a fine three-storied brick townhouse. The brass door knocker clanged out it’s announcement to those inside, as the group waited for a response.

A good Judge of Characters

The door opened to reveal a stern woman, well into her sixties, with gray hair pulled back tightly into a bun and icy blue eyes. As the party introduced themselves (Torquemada the Holy Inquisitor of Iomedae, Ryszard Paladin of Iomedea, and Haza of Katapesh, she curtly cut them off and said that she had no interest in joining their temple and started to close the door. Talking quickly, Torque explained that they had been sent to find Judge Daramid on an errand for Professor Lorrimor.

“Ah, you are they. But I was told that there would be four of you,” said the Judge.

The party explained that there had been a fourth, but that she had gone her separate way back in Ravengro.

Embreth considered that for a moment, and then invited the party inside, leading them into a small sitting room and disappearing into the back of the house, where the sound of a whistling kettle soon filled the air. She reappeared a few minutes later, bearing a silver tray of fine china. Tea and scones were served, and after everyone was refreshed, Judge Darmid spoke about the death of Professor Lorrimor and asked to see the book that the party had brought her – The Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye.

Torquemada asked her if she knew what was contained in the Manual. Embreth replied, “Yes, of course,” before taking the book and exiting the room. She returned a few minutes later, laded with three fine leather pouches, heavy with coin.

“Would you like to double your payment?” asked Embreth, peering at the group over the tops of her reading glasses.

“Petros obviously trusted you, and I begin to see the reason for his trust. Maybe I can trust you also? For an additional fee of 100 Crowns, of course.”

Judge Daramid went on to explains that she believes there is a cancer in Lepidstadt, a darkness lurking behind the shadow of a scapegoat. For many years the people of Lepidstadt have laid all their ills at the door of a creature known as the Beast of Lepidstadt — murders, thefts, and terror have all been attributed to the Beast, but Judge Daramid knews that many stories were exaggerations or simply untrue. She also knew of some people have different stories to tell about the creature—about its kindness and humanity, of how it has rescued loved ones or helped those in distress. Now that the time has arrived for such kindness to be repaid, however, no one dares to step forward and challenge the Beast’s reputation.

As a judge, Daramid has to maintain a keen sense of justice, and she fears the Beast will not receive a fair trial. The people of Lepidstadt have blamed the Beast for too much and for too long, and they want it to pay for its crimes, whether those crimes are real or imagined. In addition, the judge has some concerns about the crime for which the Beast was finally apprehended — the break-in and theft at Lepidstadt University. However, to publicly announce her suspicions could put her at great risk, both professionally and politically. As one of the three justices presiding over the Beast’s trial, she is unable to openly intervene, other than insisting that the Beast be properly defended in court.

“What I really need is a group of people without local bias to uncover the real truth about the Beast and its alleged crimes. The Beast’s legally appointed advocate, a barrister named Gustav Kaple, is hopelessly over his head and needs help — ideally someone to gather evidence about the Beast’s alleged crimes and stand up in court to be questioned by the prosecution. Such speakers must have bravery in spades and silver tongues to match, to ensure that if there is more to the Beast’s story, justice will be done. However, if the Beast is indeed guilty, then I can rest easier at night knowing that we gave it a fair trial.”

Accepting the terms of this agreement, Daramid suggested that the group hurry over to meet up with Gustav Kaple and meet with him and his client. She gave them directions to the nearby Courthouse, telling them that they were expected.

“Wait,” said Ryszard. “How do they know we’re coming?” But the Judge was already holding open the front door and ushering the group outside…

Meet the Beast

Judge Daramid’s directions soon led the group to the Main Entrance of the Lepidstadt Courthouse. Ornate pillars supported a balcony 15 feet above. Beneath the balcony, wide steps led up to a huge, ironbound door. Printed public notices were posted on a wooden board next to the door. Presently, these notices detail the upcoming trial of the Beast of Lepidstadt in long-winded legal language.

Entering through the heavy door, the party was quickly beset by a guardsman who tried to escort them back outside, stating that the trial was not due to begin for another day. name-dropping Judge Daramid quickly changed the guard’s attitude, and they were signed in as Court Defenders and directed upstairs to the Defense Chamber.

Gustav was happy to meet the party and gladly explained the circumstances leading to the Beast’s capture at the University and outlined the legal process involved in the trial:

Typically, the clerks arrive early to prepare the courtroom and chambers. Other members of the court arrive as the time approaches 10:00 a.m. The three justices arrive in black coaches with several guards in attendance.

10:00 a.m.: The trial begins.

10:10 a.m.: Opening of the Trial. Chief Justice Ambrose Khard commences proceedings by laying out the rules of the court.

10:30 a.m.: Opening Statements. Prosecutor Otto Heiger will outline his case. Barrister Gustav Kaple then will make his case for the Beast’s innocence.

11:00 a.m.: Witnesses for the Prosecution.

12:30 p.m.: Witnesses for the Defense.

2:00 p.m.: Court Recess.

Gustav then informed the party that the prosecution is using three recent crimes attributed to the Beast to convict the creature of murder:

The murder of 10 citizens of the village of Morast a year ago.

The slaying of six children in the farming community of Hergstag 7 months ago.

The arson attack 4 months ago at the Sanctuary on Karb Isle, which resulted in the deaths of Doctor Brada and his patients and the blinding of the doctor’s assistant, Karl.

Gustav seemed clearly over his head, and had not spoken to any of the prosecution witnesses nor did he have any evidence to show that the Beast was innocent of any charges. He suggested that since the trial would proceed in order of the charges arrayed against the Beast, that starting in Morast would be the most effective route. However, he first suggested that the party check out the scene of the initial crime at the University before proceeding.

The party agreed that the University was a logical starting point, but first wanted to meet with the Beast itself. Gustav did not wish to spend any further time with the Beast than necessary, and it was only the threatening gaze of Torquemada that made the entrance hall guard take the group down below to the jail.

The 8-foot tall abomination sat in an iron chair, bound with no less than a dozen sets of manacles. Stitching held together this grotesque patchwork of flesh and bone, beast and man, though the wires were so taut they looked as though they may fly apart at any moment. Its mouth was twisted in a permanent sneer, and a shock of lank, dark hair clings to its scalp. The creature slumped in its chair, a despondent expression upon its monstrous face.

At first, the party had little success in questioning the Beast. It remained in its chair, and did not respond to any of their questions. However, when asked directly why it killed the children in Hergstag, it quietly responded, “I didn’t do it.”

Although the creature resembled a legendary arcane creation – the flesh golem – the Beast was clearly something else entirely. It was intelligent, and capable of speech.

However, not much more information was forthcoming from the Beast. It refused to say where it was, other than “living in the swamp,” was unwilling to discuss whether it had killed anyone, and was equally close-mouthed about it’s origins.

It simply repeated its refrain, “I didn’t do it.”

Ryszard promised the Beast that they would do their best to see justice done, and they left, heading back to the University of Lepidstadt and the Department of Antiquities.

The Break-in

The front door was closed and locked, but lights could be seen coming from the second floor library, and knocking at the door soon led to another meeting with Dr. Crowl. He was surprised to see the group again, and even more surprised when they mentioned that they were there at the behest of the Court Defense.

Crowl was quite willing to allow the group to investigate the scene of the crime, although he warned them that a good deal of cleaning up has already taken place. The trail of the thief is easy to follow — the Beast broke in through the back door, then passed through the auditorium on his way to the workshop where the Seasage Effigy was kept. The back door to the Antiquities Department was originally locked with a superior lock, but it is clear that the door was recently damaged. The 1-inch-thick iron door was currently locked with a makeshift padlock and only crude repairs have been made.

The simple wooden door leading from the back door foyer into the auditorium had been broken off its hinges, as had the far door leading to the workshop. Paneled in oak, the auditorium contains a sunken, 5-foot-deep central area lined with books, tribal fetishes, and curiosities. A small stage and lectern stood in the center of this area, which is edged with a low oak rail, worn smooth from the touch of years of students gazing into the Master’s lecture room below.

The high–ceilinged workshop/library was lined with mostly empty shelves, and a trio of great leaded windows looked out over the university lawn. A staggering array of books, scrolls, maps, and curios, including shrunken heads, tribal masks, and bits of pottery, lay scattered all over the floor, apparently pulled from the shelves. The room is otherwise crowded with overturned tables, desks, and cabinets.

Torquemada could easily tell that the back door was clearly forced open from the outside, while Haza discovered the remains of fine silver wire and a tiny bell attached to the door, obviously the components for an alarm spell. While several people had walked through the area since the break-in, Torque was able to discern the tracks of a large, heavy creature in iron-nailed boots.

Despite the mess in the workshop, Ryszard noticed that one area in the room appeared to be untouched, in stark contrast to the damage seen elsewhere in the department. Indeed, the pedestal that once held the Seasage Effigy is crowded with small fetishes and delicate mother-of-pearl fish carvings that are undamaged. Meanwhile, Haza investigated the workshop’s windows which had clearly not been opened for many years, as evidenced by the build-up of grime around them. However, a closer inspection revealed that the center window, though now shut, had no such grime, and opened easily while the others were effectively painted shut.

As the night was getting long, the party opted to retire for the night, seeking out food and bed at the Purple Stallion inn, where Kendra and Vincent were waiting.

Good food, good drink, and a good night’s rest awaited.

Pharast 23rd, 4711

The Morass of Morast

As the first rays of dawn began to fill the skies, the party was already awake and preparing for their day. They first headed over to the Courthouse, finding Gustav asleep on a pile of papers. Upon awakening, he listened to their discoveries at the University break-in, but urged them to make haste to Morast, as the trial was to begin at 10:00 AM tomorrow!

Morast was a small hamlet in the Dippelmere Swamp about 8 miles due east of Lepidstadt. The party was able to follow a narrow trail leading from Lepidstadt to the village. The village itself was a miserable collection of 20 or so wattle-and-daub hovels built on stilts above the swamp and connected by soggy wooden boardwalks. The villagers apparently make their livings fishing and occasionally bringing in a blood caiman (a variety of crocodilian with a red-scaled head that is native to the north).

Some general questioning was met with close to open hostility, but the good grace of Paladin Ryszard was able to make some headway with the insular villagers after asking to speak with the village elder Lazne, whom Gustav had said was the star witness for the Morast portion of the trial.

Coming to discover that the village they were talking to currently was the aforementioned Lazne, Ryszard was able to pursue him to retell his tale of the Beast’s apparent attack on Morast.

About a year and half ago, villager began to disappear, their homes broken into and their bodies dragged away into the swamp. Sometimes a body part was found, but no complete corpses were ever found. Thus, suspicious fell upon the legendary Beast, for it was well known to rip men limb from limb. Lazne claims that at first the Beast only took lone villagers who were outside at night, but soon became bolder and began to attack houses. These attacks only ended when Lazne organized the villagers and set a trap for the Beast about 6 months after they started. He recalled that night well. The villagers were lying in wait for the Beast, who attacked just after nightfall. Armed with torches, the locals attacked and wounded the creature —a huge, hulking brute about 7 feet tall. The Beast took to the water, but the swampers gave chase in their boats, pursuing it to the village boneyard, where it was attacked by a blood caiman. Lazne grinned as he recalled how the Beast yelled oaths and curses that even the worst whore in Lepidstadt would blush to say as the gator attacked it, and describes the deep bite wound the gator made on the Beast’s shoulder as it dragged the Beast under the water. Although the Beast’s blood tainted the villagers’ burial ground, forcing them to abandon it and build another, the swampers thought it a small price to pay for the thing’s death. Hearing that the Beast actually survived was all that Lazne needed to tell his story to the authorities, and he was looking forward to seeing it burn.

The group asked permission to view the old boneyard, and Lazne agreed, after hitting up the group for a rental fee for the coracles and pilots needed to row them.

Threat from Above

A while later, the party sat in the small boats looking at the old boneyard. It was a tiny, miserable island rising from the swamp, a tangle of trees covering its dour, reed-choked surface. Hundreds of fetishes hung from the trees—simple, roughly humanoid figures made of sticks and bound with twine. Larger fetishes were planted in the ground on various parts of the island, leaning drunkenly in the soft mud.

Most notably, an enormously large nest was spotting high in the boughs of a trio of tangled trees on the northwest side of the isle. It was there the party opted to investigate first. Unfortunately, when they reached the trees, the nest’s occupant peered out at them – it was a manticore!

The lion-like creature dove from the next, flinging tail spikes at the hapless party, who struggled to mount an attack. But the manticore did not land, only flying by overhead and flinging more spikes. Around and around the trees it flew, it’s missles striking home again and again. Realizing that melee combat was out of the question, Torque and Ryszard began to respond in kind, slinging arrows and crossbow bolts at the monster while Haza devoted his divine power to healing and restoring his friends. That was a luxury the manticore did not have as it was struck again by arrows and bolts. Finally, and with a final flick of its deadly tail, it turned and fled over the trees deeper into the swamp.

The manticore’s nest was obviously a recent construction, and contained the corpse of a dwarf traveler. The corpse wore a colorful patchwork coat with numerous pockets holding:

oil of keen edge,

a package of bodybalm

a silver hip flask still containing a fine brandy

a crimson felt purse containing 31 pp and 22 gp

a masterwork shortsword

a wand of ghost sound (22 charges)

Now that the immediate threat was dealt with, the group had time to thoroughly investigate the small island. And what they found surprised them.

Clues in the mud

First, Torquemada identifies six graves in the boneyard that appeared to have been tampered with, sagging into the ground as though they had collapsed from below, and leaving wide depressions in the muddy earth. After obtaining permission from Elder Lazne to exhume the graves, under the watchful eye of the Paladin, these six graves were found to be empty, while all of the other graves were undisturbed.

While searching the southern end of the boneyard, Haza came upon the remains of an old camp. Around a small firepit were a waterskin (still half full of wine), the aged remnants of some trail rations, and a curious glass vial. The bottom of the vial contains the dried remains of a green substance that smells vaguely of carrots, which Torque identified as the substance not as a potion, but as an alchemist’s darkvision extract.

Nearby, Ryszard found a swamp coracle hidden in the trees and brush along the southwest shore of the island. Dried blood was noticed in the bottom of the boat, which contained an oar, a moldy leather travel bag with a damp artisan’s outfit (a shirt, breeches, shoes, and a cloth apron) inside, and a vile object that appeared to be a detached human face!

In addition, a length of rope stretches from the boat into the waters below. The rope was attached to a heavy sack. This sack was very large (big enough to hold a Medium-sized humanoid) and had dried blood soaked into its fabric. The sack held some rope, a gag, a rusted lantern, a trio of heavy knives, and a rusted shovel.

Finally, in the undergrowth nearby, Torquemada found a leather-bound case filled with fine tools, made of silver with amethyst handles, lost in the undergrowth nearby. It appeared to be a surgical tool set, such as those used by physicians and chirurgeons.

Nothing else was to be found, but before the party left for the return trip to Lepidstadt, they asked Lazne if the dwarf or the detached human face were at all familiar. While he found the whole proceeding distasteful, morbid curiosity overcame his natural reluctance, and he looked at the corpse, saying that he had never seen the dwarf before. However, when he saw the face skin, he remarked that it looked like the trader Nam Kleben. He was a trader that had started appearing in Morast about 18 months ago, but who had not been seen for a year or so.

The face reminded Torquemada of a creature he once read about during his training. It hailed from the First World – a fey known as a skin stealers. These legendary beings were bent on destruction and gruesome murder. When left to their own devices, these gangly beings are unpredictable and spontaneous; when assigned duties from some higher, stronger power, however, skin stealers rumored to be adept at performing complex assassinations and spy work.

After burying the dwarf corpse and saying a few words to Sarenrae and Iomedae, the group rode with the swampers back to Morast and heading back along the trail to Lepidstadt.

Pharast 18th, 4711

R & R

As the days wound on after the terrible trials of haunted Harrowstone, the party began to recuperate from their experiences. Resting around Lorrimor house and simply walking the marketplace of Ravengro did much to heal their bodies and souls, and soon the thirty day period of watching over Kendra Lorrimor was drawing to a close.

While the threat from the spirits of Harrowstone was gone, the attitude of the townsfolk did not seem much improved over when the group first arrived in town. While the strangeness had stopped in the town, no one seemed to tie that to the group. And since they had done little to broadcast their actions, the party was still treated as outsiders by most of the townsfolk.

The party was able to recover a number of well-crafted items from the old prison, and received fair coin in trade.

Jorfa the smith made good on her promises, and Torquemada and Haza were fitted into their gleaming new armor. Tailor-made to fit perfectly, neither could remember ever owning or even seeing finer pieces of armor. .

Ryszard spent some of his time researching the current ownership and land rights of the former prison, and was told that he would need to visit the Canterwall county seat at the fortress town of Tamrivena. His plans to raze the structure temporarily put on hold, he set about finding other uses for his tithe from his share of the party treasure.

Of the witch Celaphelia, there was no sign, although ominously, each member of the group discovered missing personal items from their rooms…

As the party began to prepare for their trip to return Professor Lorrimor’s books to the University of Lepidstadt and to Judge Embreth Daramid, Kendra began acting peculiarly. Usually quietly reserved, she began to act furtively around the group. When questioned about her future plans, her answers were always cryptically short and evasive. She also started to avoid being in the same room as Torquemada, as if she couldn’t stand to be in his presence.

As the date of departure arrived, Kendra finally revealed her plans to the group – she was taking a sabbatical from Ravengro, and would be traveling to Lepidstadt! When questioned about the wisdom of making such a journey alone, she replied that she had hired a bodyguard to escort her. A bodyguard already known to the party in fact – Vincent DuMont.

Torquemada was not pleased at this announcement, but as Ryszard immediately invited Kendra to accompany the party on the journey to Lepidstadt, Torque could say little when she eagerly accepted. She said she was happy to have the party along for a while longer, all the while throwing quick glances Torquemada’s way, not that he noticed.

Along the Mountain Road

Finally, the thirty days were up, and the group set out early on a sunny Pharast morning for the journey north. The party would be following the Mountain Road, which led from Ravengro through Tamrivena and thence into the county of Vieland to the city of Lepidstadt.pa

The winding road was fairly well maintained, and the party made good time as they left Ravengro and began to wend their way higher up into the hills and mountains of western Canterwall. The cool spring weather of Pharast lent a certain chill to the already cold air, and although the clouds boded ill for the travelers, no rain or snow materialized to dampen the spirits of the group.

The distance from Ravengro to Lepidstadt would be about 100 miles. It was well-known that no journey in Ustalav was without risk, but the old Mountain Road was generally regarded as the
best route. This road follows the southeastern foothills of the Tusk Mountains, passing through the towns of Tamrivena and Courtaud before following the Lesser Moutray River up to Lepidstadt.

Kendra used the journey to make numerous excuses to walk beside the Holy Inquisitor of Iomedae, talking about plants, weather, history, monster lore – just about anything Torquemada brought up in conversation had Kendra hanging on his every word.

Not that he noticed.

The first day passed without incident, and the party set up a watch schedule for the evening hours to ensure that danger would not catch them unawares. However, this night passed uneventfully.

Pharast 20th, 4711

Klix-Klix & Glubb-Glubb

It was on the evening of the second day out that danger reared its head for the travelers. Torquemada was on watch, and noticed a small creature watching the group huddles in sleep around their campfire. The night had brought some blowing drizzle and snow, and they had found shelter in an old, ruined cabin. Although the walls and roof were not entirely intact, there was enough left standing to provide a substantial amount of protection from the elements. That, coupled with a roaring fire, made the evenings repose comfortable.

Into this comfort came the intruder. It was, of all things, a small goblin. Holding aloft a small spear, and wearing tattered clothing, it watched the scene from nearby, obviously curious, but seemingly non-threatening.

By now, Torquemada had set about rousing the group. Ryszard was first up, and strode forth to parlay with the goblin. The creature was brash and full of himself, introducing himself as Klix-Klix, ruler of the goblin tribes. Which was, after a long painful series of questions and answers, apparently a tribe of one.

Ryszard invited the creature to share their fire and some wine, and it did so, boisterously accepting their “surrender” and claiming the wine as was his due as victor.

Just then, another figure was spotted lurking nearby – another goblin hiding in the brush nearby. When shown this, Klix-Klix started alarmingly, and screaming tried to flee through a nearby hole in the wall. Ryszard intercepted the goblin, asking what was going on.

“It’s Glubb-Glubb!” shrieked the frightened goblin, still struggling to flee, as the other goblin strode forward into the firelight. Ryszard moved to speak with the new goblin, who threw his spear at his head in response!

Angered now, the paladin drew his weapon and engaged the goblin, who surprised him with the ferocity and speed of its counterattack. As Haza and Torquemada moved to help, Ryszard felt a wave of despair fall over his spirit, but fought back against the mysterious flood of emotion, striking Glubb-Glubb, but not damaging him significantly.

Now a full-fledged battle was on, and the small goblin was landing powerful blows on the group. Clearly this Glubb-Glubb was no ordinary goblin! This revelation was proven true a few moments later, when the goblin disappeared and suddenly reappeared nearby, blinking in and out of existence. The battle continued, with the bloodied party finally getting in a number of strikes on the goblin.

However, now the goblin assumed another shape.

It was no goblin.

Torquemada knew it for what it was.

It was a Barghest. An evil shapechanger from the outer planes.

Suddenly, the creature levitated into the air, out of reach of the party below, and dimension doored away into the night.

Was it mortally wounded? Would it return this night? Or the next?

In the confusion, Klix-Klix had fled into the night, and with no sign of the barghest’s imminent return, the party renewed their watch schedule and fell back into troubled sleep.

Pharast 21st, 4711

The Crooked Kin

The third day dawned with no more attacks by the barghest, and the group set off early, arriving in the walled fortress town of Tamrivena in the early afternoon. The people in town and guardsmen were strangely suspicious for such a large city, but Ryszard was able to find his way to the council hall to inquire about the land rights of Harrowstone prison.

He discovered that the property was still owned by the county of Canterwall, and that if he were serious in making an offer to purchase the land and buildings, he would only have to leave a 1,000 gp deposit to start the process. The current listed value of the land and buildings? 20,000 gp.

Ryszard decided that his tithe to Iomedae would be better used elsewhere, and the group bedded down for the night in the comfort of a local inn, the Brown Hare. The price was reasonable, the food hot and filling, and the beds were warm and cozy. Best of all, no goblins or barghests disturbed their sleep.

The next day saw the group leave the city of Tamrivena behind, as they continued along the Mountain Road north. There were a number of travelers on the road, including a caravan of horses and armored guards escorting a wagon carrying tax collectors back to the county seat.

It was near dusk when the party crested a small rise and saw a curious sight ahead. A caravan of nine covered Varisian wagons pulled by nags sat by the roadside. The wagons were gaudily painted and depict a travelling show’s performers beneath the legend, “The Crooked Kin—Ustalav’s Greatest Traveling Cabinet of Curiosities!”

The various members of the troupe appeared to be milling aimlessly around the stopped
caravan. Two women with extremely small heads were distraught and crying, which in turn is causing the a hirsute young boy to (literally) howl inconsolably. A 7’ tall bearded woman and a veiled, robed woman with four arms were apparently trying to comfort them while three brightly colored clowns, an ogre-sized brute, and a dark-skinned Mwangi man with no arms or legs argued nearby.

As the party approached, the performers quieted down, the brute quickly knocking on a nearby wagon. Its rear door opened, and a tall albino man with red eyes and long, white hair that hung below his knees, wearing a tall red top hat, a long red coat with gold buckles, and striped trousers, stepped out.

Introducing himself as Kaleb Hesse, the albino went on to explain that he was the leader of the famous Crooked Kin traveling troupe. While the party exchanged pleasantries, the other performers began to close around behind their leader, obviously waiting for him to speak to the group about something important.

And he did. Kaleb introduced the troupe, and then asked for assistance. One of the Pinhead sisters, Aleece, had wandered off earlier this afternoon into the marsh nearby, and had yet to return. They had called for her, but there was no response, and everyone was beginning to fear that something bad had happened to her. Kaleb went on to explain that no one in the group had the skills to search through the fens as night approached, and offered a reward if the group would assist them in searching for their missing friend and family member.

The Feaster in Watery Shadows

The party set their lights ablaze and found the tracks of Aleece nearby. The tracks ran for about half a mile before heading down into a boggy river valley, and then into a densely vegetated, midge-infested marsh. The marsh was a shallow bog, with high reeds between 6 and 8 feet high that blocked line-of-sight and slowed movement through the murky water further. It was impossible to follow tracks here, so the group spread out, looking for any signs of the girl as they called out to Aleece.

About 100 yards inside the bog, a cramped clearing filled with dismal-looking gray flowers was found. A faint cry of “help, it’s coming back!” was heard, and the party readied themselves as they moved onward, searching for the source of the cries.

Even expecting attack, Haza was taken by surprise when a large spider-like monster with an eerie, humanoid face surrounded by a shaggy mane of fur appeared out of nowhere and bit at the cleric. Sarenrae was with Haza though, and the venomous bite was turned by the heavy armor plates that Haza now wore, and before he could even reach, the creature faded back into the Ethereal Plane from whence it came.

Now the party struggled against the sucking mud, trying to regroup as the phase spider began jaunting back-and-forth between the Material and Ethereal planes, striking at the party members and then fading away before reprisal could be made. Torquemada felt the sting of the phase spider’s venom, and felt his stamina falter. Haza and Ryszard were also struck before the party could rally back-to-back, readying their attacks for when the monster next appeared. As it did, everyone lashed out with their weapons and spells, finally harming the magical beast. The fight continued, but now the party had the upper hand, and finally, bloodied, battered, and bruised, the Feaster in Watery Shadows faded away into the Ethereal Plane and did not return.

Sadly, the corpse of Aleece was found nearby, obviously poisoned by the phase spider. Additionally, a number of items were discovered, left behind when the spider fled:

a potion of fox’s cunning

a magnifying glass with a gold handle

a small wooden box containing a set of brass weights

a walnuttraveling case with a pair of superior locks and their keys

a jar of pickled garlic cloves

Returning to the road with Aleece’s body, they broke the bad news to Kaleb and crew, who were stricken by their loss, but also glad that the party was able to help return her body to them and to chase off the loathsome creature that lured her to her death.

True to his word, Kaleb presented the party with a reward for their efforts:

+1 humanoid (shapechanger) bane dagger

Kaleb also invited the party to spend the evening with them, and should they wish it, accompany them to the city of Lepidstadt, where they were headed to take advantage of the crowds that were headed there.

For the dreaded Beast of Lepidstadt — terrifying abomination that has terrorized the people of Vieland for years — had been captured. Hundreds of people were flocking to the city hoping to catch a glimpse of the horror and watch it burn for its crimes.

Building Trust
In “The Haunting of Harrowstone,” the PCs spend quite a bit of time in the town of Ravengro. Unfortunately, as strangers to the town during a particularly bad time, they aren’t initially trusted. Yet as the days roll by, they are faced with numerous opportunities to build upon the town’s trust and, eventually, become well liked by the citizens, earning discounts on purchases, free room and board, or perhaps even greater rewards for their good deeds.

Ravengro’s overall trust in the PCs is expressed by a numerical value — a Trust score. This score is shared by the entire party — acts of individual members can affect this total just as surely as acts the entire group takes part in. When the adventure begins, the PCs have a Trust score of 20. They can raise their Trust score by doing good deeds, respecting the townsfolk, or completing quests.

I will be reusing this mechanic as appropriate. When the party enters areas where their reputation has preceded them, the party initial Trust score will be modified to reflect their previous deeds (or misdeeds).

Calistril 22nd, 4711

A Quiet Evening at Home

It was early evening as the party returned to town. It was still early in the evening, so after a quick meal, the group went their separate ways. Haza and Torquemada headed off to the Ravengro Forge, while Ryszard accompanied Kendra as she ran some errands in town. Celaphelia excused herself to go rest and recuperate in her room.

The Forge was ringing with the sound of hammer and anvil when Haza and Torquemada approached, and they soon found themselves face-to-face with the shop owner, the dwarf Jorfa. While gruff and curt, she didn’t seem at all as apoplectic as Ryszard had made her out to be. Both adventurers were looking for new armor, Torquemada requesting a more movement-friendly suit of scale mail, while Haza simply wanted something with a heavier amount of protection of a breastplate.

After some haggling, the dwarf smith agree to forge a new suit of armor for each of them, to be delivered by the end of three weeks. Haza and Torquemada realized that they would have to sell off some of the items they had found in Harrowstone to make the payments, but were pleased to be able to get some upgraded armor forged before leaving for Lepistadt.

Ryszard had meanwhile finished escorting Kendra around town on her errands and had returned to Lorrimor Manor. He was settling in for the night, when he heard a knock at the door. To his surprise, it was Professor Lorrimor. Ryszard was momentarily surprised, and the undead Professor lurched forward and raked at Ryszard’s already scarred face with his dirt-encrusted nails! Starggering back, Ryszard fought off the zombie, all-to-aware that the commotion would surely bring Kendra out of the study to investigate if he didn’t finish this abomination off quickly.

Luckily, Celaphelia heard them first, and found herself at the top of the stairs, watching Ryszard slash at the head of her friend, Professor Lorrimor! He wasn’t dead after all, but alive and being attacked by another party member – shades of the previous betrayal by Torquemada.

Celaphelia flew down the stairs, determined to save the life of her good friend. She cast a hex at Ryszard, who was still struggling with the zombie. Suddenly, through the front door came Haza and Torquemada, finally returned from their earlier errand. They stood in shock at the scene before them – the paladin fighting off the zombie while trying to avoid the witch’s attacks. Finally spurred into action, Haza and Torquemada waded into the fray, siding with Ryszard against Professor Lorrimor. They managed to hack the zombie down while Celaphelia ranted against them, just as the study door opened and a once-again shocked Kendra emerged. Quickly, the group arrayed themselves to shield the sight from Kendra’s eyes, but she was still able to make out a dirty, disheveled figure lying motionless on the floor. Torquemada stepped forward and explained that they had just fought off an attack on Kendra’s life, attempted by an undead zombie that had been given the appearance of her dead father.

Knock, knock…

Into this already chaotic scene came a knocking at the open door. It was the local man hired by Ryszard to guard the gravesite of Professor Lorrimor. Arrayed in breastplate, he stood stock-still at the doorway, staring at the madness before him. He asked what was going on, and Ryszard moved to confront him, offering him his pay and assuring him that all was normal and nothing unusual was going on. He refused to be dissuaded, however, and slowly backed towards the door, stating that he was going to summon Sheriff Caeller, and pulled out a farmer’s sickle to ward off the group.

Ryszard was having none of this, and decided to teach this upstart farmer’s boy a lesson. He stepped forward, lunging for the sickle, intending to disarm the pup and have a little fun at his expense. Unfortunately, the guard moved much more quickly that Ryszard expected, and he was left grasping at air, off-balance, while the guard threw a thunderous left cross into Ryszard’s jaw. His head snapped back, his teeth audibly snapping together as a fine spray of blood misted from Ryszard’s split lip.

No one had expected that, least of all the paladin.

The guard continued his wary retreat, and finally spun on his heel and disappeared through the doorway into the evening darkness.

Torquemada moved with haste, extorting the others into helping take the body with them to bury it elsewhere before the Sheriff arrived and asked too many questions. Celaphelia refused to take part in this scheme and stayed behind with Kendra as the group lugged the corpse out through the back door.

Only to run into the guardsman once again, this time brandishing a lucern hammer at them. He said he expected some kind of trickery, and that it would be best for them to drop the body and await the arrival of the Sheriff.

Once again, Ryszard moved to confront the guard, attempting to outwit him with words, but once again, was sidestepped by the local, who started blowing a whistle that was chained around his neck. Finally, the paladin moved to attack the man, and a battle was joined. After an initial series of blows, the guard dropped his polearm and switched to his sickle again. Ryszard was landing some blows, but appeared to be getting the worst of it, and Haza and Torquemada reluctantly joined in. It was now three-on-one, but the guard still was standing toe-to-toe with the party. All were now battered, bruised, and bloody, and had stopped momentarily to gather their breath when a Deputy appeared around the corner of the house, ordering everyone to put down their arms and explain themselves, and just what was that body doing on the ground?

Ryszard tried futilely to lie his way out of the situation, but the Deputy was having none of it, when suddenly bursting through the nearby trees came a half-dozen skeletal figures, clattering forward with clawed hands and attacking the living indiscriminately. The Deputy went down under their attack, but the party managed to destroy the rest of the living dead, working side-by-side with their former antagonist the guard.

From around the front of the building, sounds of combat could be heard, but first Torquemada rushed into the house, seeking to check on Kendra. He stormed through the house, but there was no sign of her or of Celaphelia. The witch had disappeared with Kendra once again.

There was nothing to be done about it now, and the party moved out front, where the Sheriff and a number of his Deputies were fighting off another wave of undead monstrosities. With their help, the undead were quickly returned to the cold embrace of true death, and it was time for explanations once again.

Surprisingly, as Torquemada finished the tale, the Sheriff grudgingly admitted that he believed him. Maybe it was the candor with which Torquemada spoke, or the irrefutable evidence laying corpse-cold around them – but the Sheriff agreed that the problem was not the party, but the growing evil of Harrowstone prison. He dispatched his men to clean up the bodies and arrange for Father Grimburrow to have them reburied. Ryszard would also accompany the men heading to the Temple of Pharasma, as he had a suspicion that he would find Kendra and the witch there.

Calistril 23rd, 4711

A Parting of Ways

A suspicious that would prove correct. The witch Celaphelia had once again convinced Kendra to run off with her for the safety of someplace else other than in the presence of the party. Harsh words were exchanged, ending with Celaphelia retiring alone to her room for the evening.

Meanwhile, the local guard, one Vincent DuMont by name, spoke with the group about the situation earlier, saying that he did what he though was right, although he was sorry that everyone got roughed up as a result of the misunderstanding.

Ryszard suggested to the group that it might be worth their while to see if Vincent would be willing to throw in with the team, but Torquemada – Holy Inquisitor of Iomedae – stated that he was not willing to split his shares of loot with any allies, no matter what strengths they brought to the table…

With that, the matter was dropped, and Vincent left the house along with the Sheriff and the remaining deputies. Kendra retired to her room, as did the party members.

Next morning, the party awoke to find that two more letters had been painted in blood in the town – the letter “O” on the Harrowstone Memorial, and the letter “R” on the front door of Lorrimor House.

The witch Celaphelia was also missing, her bed showing no signs of having been slept in, and all her belongings removed from the premises. Apparently, she no longer would be working with the party or fulfilling the conditions of her inheritance set forth in the Will of Professor Lorrimor.

After breakfast, the party decided to return to the prison and attempt to destroy the remaining evil spirits once and for all. Kendra was escorted to the Temple of Pharasma for her safety, and the group returned once more to the abandoned prison on the hillside.

The Blessed Father

Once more the team ventured into the cold stone walls of Harrowstone, making their way to the upper level. A number of cell blocks were found throughout the upper expanse, but outside of a few skeletons and old, rotting furniture, little of value or note was found. However, in the southwest corner of the floor, a locked door led to a somewhat larger cell. While it was rather spacious, it contained no concessions to comfort. A skeletal body dressed in the rotting remains of a prisoner’s robe lay slumped against the eastern wall, wrapped in numerous chains on which were affixed numerous weights emblazoned with several different holy symbols…

Father Charlatan?

Approaching cautiously, and unleashing a torrent of holy water onto the corpse, the party advanced upon the skeleton, awaiting it’s counterattack.

However, the skeletal corpse was apparently just only a corpse, as nothing happened.

Somewhat disappointing, the group began to search the room for some sign of the presence of the undead spirit, and it was Ryszard who saw the spectre first. Scanning the room with detect evil, he was shocked to see a glowing spirit standing behind Haza, his ring-encrusted fingers clasped onto Haza’s shoulder, and a wicked grin splitting his mouth wide.

Torquemada and Ryszard backpedaled from him, hissing to Haza that Father Charlatan was behind him, but he obviously could not see the spectral figure, and returned to playing with the Father’s skull, having removed it from his corpse and now playing with it.

Torquemada quickly retrieved one of his spirit siphons as Ryszard shot a ghost touch arrow at the vision, but was dismayed to see it pass harmlessly through the ghost. Father Charlatan winked at Ryszard, but then grimaced in apparent pain as a burst of greenish light filled the room from the spirit siphon.

However, it was not enough. Father Charlatan still stood in lockstep with Haza, and a wisp of dark, acrid smoke spiraled up from the burnt-out magic siphon. Haza screamed, and passed out…

Only to awaken in a brightly lit room, comfortably arranged on a feather-soft bed, covered in warm blankets. An older man clad in robes stood nearby, and moved closer when he saw his charge had awakened.

He explained that Haza was in the city of Lepidstadt. He had been brought here months ago and had been in a coma ever since, having been the only survivor of the Ravengro massacre, when the evil spirits of the prison had escaped and rained terror down upon the townsfolk, slay or driving the living from the town.

Haza was unsure of what was happening and started to question the priest, but suddenly felt woozy as a sharp pain lanced through him, causing him to fall back onto the bed…

(Meanwhile, from Torque’s and Ryszard’s perspective, Haza lay prone on the floor of the cell, writhing in pain as ghostly chains appeared and wrapped themselves around his body, constricting and tightening as they watched.)

With a mighty effort of will, Haza sat up again, questioning the man again. The priest explained that sometimes these pains occur in those who had recently been resurrected from the dead. Haza mentioned that the priest had just said that he had been in a coma, and had not been dead, and again pain flared through him. This time, Haza fought it off with all the willpower he could muster, and the priest screamed, his features melting away, as did the room itself, leaving Haza lying on the cold floor of the Harrowstone cell, looking up at his incredulous friends.

They explained what they saw and said that it seemed that the spirit of Father Charlatan had suddenly reared back in pain, melting into mist as the ghostly chains evaporated from Haza’s body as the same time.

Haza understood then. Father Charlatan himself was a haunt, and the spirit had pitted its terrible will against Haza’s in a battle for his soul, but it was Haza who won the fight, and the haunt was disrupted. He hoped that Vesorianna, now armed with the Badge of Warden Hawkren, would be able to prevent it from returning while they hunted down the last of the Five.

The Splatter Man

The group returned to Vesorianna, who was beside herself in both fear and gratitude. She explained that Father Charlatan was no more, but that the Splatter Man was moving against her with greater strength, and unless he were defeated soon, would soon kill her and be free to terrorized the town and the world.

Down into the dungeons once more, the party debated the best way to approach the lair of the Splatter Man. They now knew, thanks to Vesorianna’s increased powers with the Badge, that the Splatter Man dwelt in the Nevermore, but the broken winch and lowered portcullis was a formidable obstacle.

Ryszard suggested they return to the torture room, explaining that there might be a secret passage from that room into the prison cells. Torquemada laughed at this, asking why would the prison architects but a secret passage from the torture room to the cellblock, but his laughter died on the still air as Ryszard tripped the switch that opened the secret door leading from the torture room to the cellblock…

Rough stone walls of a natural cavern dripped with moisture, leaving stagnant pools of water on the uneven floor as the party moved through the passage. It was the paladin who sensed something wrong, as the glistening rock beneath his feet gave way spongily. Suddenly, the ground reared up around his feet and legs, trapping Ryszard in a thick mass of grayish rock that roiled and oozed up his limbs. He screamed in pain as the sharp pain of flesh-eating acid began to burn him, and the party struck out at the terrible creature. Ryszard lashed out with his hand axe, chopping a chunk out of the ooze, but his handaxe came back pitted and smoking from the blow also. Haza attempted to burn the monster with fire bolts, but they seemed to do little harm to the mindless thing, leaving Torquemada to attack with his heavy crossbow. Ryszard fought his was free of the lashing psuedopods, and the ooze was struck down in a flurry of arrows and bolts.

Moving onward, the party found another secret door and entered the Nevermore proper.

Several iron doors lined the walls of this partially ruined cellblock — the doors themselves hanging askew on their hinges, revealing empty cells beyond. Partially burnt wooden support timbers still functioned to the north, while to the south they had collapsed and caused cell walls to crumble as well. Rivulets of water dripped down the southwestern wall to create a shallow pool in this ruined portion of the room, with overflow filling an oubliette hole in the middle of the room nearly to the rim.

Suddenly, Torquemada felt a cold hand upon his heart. On the nearby wall, a bloody letter appeared – a “T”. Torquemada knew that if his name were spelled out in the blood-writ words, he would surely die. Even now, a fog occluded his mind, and his willpower diminished drastically. If he could only erase the letter(s), he would have a chance. Haza and Ryszard felt a touch also, but so far they resisted the lure of the malevolent haunt.

Torquemada fought off the mental assault, even as Ryszard succumbed to the mental drain. And into the chaotic scene, rising up from the dark waters of the oubliette with a hideous shriek – the ghost of the Splatter Man.

Dark energy gathered at his fingertips, as potent magic missles slammed into Ryszard, Torquemada, and Haza. Between the Blood-Writ Names and the Splatter Man, the group was sorely pressed, as the ghost proved resistant to magic as well as weapons. He clearly was the most powerful spirit that any there had yet faced, but Haza had a final card to play. Pulling the rotting spellbook out from his pack – the spellbook once belonging to the Splatter Man himself – he threw the book down and called holy fire down upon it. As the moldy pages burst into flame, so did the Splatter Man. The connection between his previous life and his undeath was strong, and so was the pain that surged through his insubstantial form. Heartened by this, the party pressed their advantage, throwing all their magical and physical might at the staggered ghost. The Splatter Man was at a disadvantage now, and the group knew they could not afford to let him recover. The ghost surged into melee, attempting to use his corrupting touch to destroy the humans in front of him, but he was still disoriented from the destruction of his spellbook. He realized his mistake and started to turn to flee, but it was too late. A final blow slashed through his incorporeal form, piercing his undead heart, and sending him back into the waiting arms of true death.

The Splatter Man was dead. Once again.

Aftermath

With the Splatter Man dead, the imposing will of the haunt also disappeared. It was as if a great pressure was suddenly released, and all felt a warm rush of hope fill their hearts. As they bandaged their wounds, they searched the cell blocks that once housed the evil murderer. At the bottom of the flooded oubliette, a number of magical items were discovered:

Taking these with them, the group returned to Vesorianna, who was literally aglow with pleasure. She greeted the victors, thanking them profusely for their aid, and assuring them that no trace of the Five or any evil spirit or haunt now remained within the prison walls.

As her work was also done, she admitted that her time on this plane was rapidly coming to an end. But not the end of pain and suffering that she would have faced under the power of the Splatter Man; rather this was one of promised release and reward.

She offered the Badge of her husband as a parting gift to the party, as her form began to ripple and distort. With a final sign of relief and bliss, Vesorianna disappeared, and the Badge of Warden Hawkren slowly drifted to the ground.

The group gathered the badge, and left the unhaunted halls of Harrowstone Prison behind them. Rest and recuperation beckoned, as well as a few more weeks of watching over Kendra before leaving for Lepidstadt, and further adventures…

Calistril 21st, 4711

The Hunt Begins

… and almost immediately decided that it would be suicidal to spend the night inside this haunted prison. Torquemada proposed using a rope and crowbar, along with Celaphelia’s animate rope spell, to secure the rope above the water-flooded “Hell’s Basement.” And that’s exactly what happened, as the party left behind the cold, damp, and soot-stained dungeon for the warmth and (relative) safety of Ravengro and Lorrimor House.

Kendra was still alive and safe, even though she seemed increasingly concerned about the extended absences her “guardians” had been taking lately, as well as returning to the house at all hours beaten, bloodied, and battered. Reassurances were made, and the party were soon resting from their latest ordeal.

Next morning, the town was abuzz with the latest desecration at Harrowstone Memorial. As expected, a bloody letter “S” was found at the site, as the Splatter Man continued his malicious work against the ghostly Vesorianna.

Refreshed and ready, the group set off again for the haunted prison, and immediately moved inside, returning first to the auditorium to test out a theory. Once again entering the cold room, Torquemada unscrewed the top off of a haunt siphon, and was rewarded by a burst of greenish light that filled the room. A deep sucking sound echoed through the air, and suddenly the cold was gone. The haunt siphon itself now glowed, filled with a green-white ectoplasm that twisted and writhed inside the jar.

Next, the party moved back to the old guard room containing the lift, securing a rope and descending once again to the dark waters below. Heading back to the northern section, they found themselves in one of the original prison cell blocks – The Butchery.

The Lopper

Several iron doors lined the walls of this large, empty room. In the middle of the room, a hinged ten-foot-square metal grating lay over a dark pit in the floor. A thick rope has been tied to the grating and dangled into the pit below.

The group moved to peer into the pit, which appeared to be about 30’ deep and whose floor was covered in broken debris and assorted items. While peering down into the soot-stained hole, Ryszard suddenly screamed in pain as a ghostly transparent axe slashed through his midsection – bright red blood spraying out as the axehead continued in its sweep, matching the deep crimson flow that soaked Ryszard’s clothing. A howling muscular man, bald, with large staring eyes, a wicked grin, and hefting a large war axe shifted in and out of sight as The Lopper manifested and attacked the party once again. Ryszard was still bleeding from the initial attack, and had to staunch the blood before he could act again, while Torquemada and Haza attacked the ghostly prisoner. Celaphelia attempted to Hex the wraith, but was ineffective, as were most of the others’ attacks against the incorporeal monster. Each wicked cut with his axe left deep, bleeding wounds that forced the party to continually deal with those wounds during the combat.

Suddenly, Celaphelia left the room, seemingly leaving the rest of the party to fend for themselves, but Ryszard’s onslaught of ghost touch and magical arrows, Haza’s turning and Torquemada’s Disrupt Undead spells took a small toll on the ghost, but then they noticed that with each successful attack by the Lopper on a party member, he seemingly would heal his own wounds and grow stronger. Torque urged Ryszard to use the silver hand axe found earlier amongst the prisoner’s belongings, as it was believed that this axe once belonged to the Lopper, but it passed through the spectre unimpeded.

The party considered a full retreat, when Torquemada noticed that the transparent figure seemed disfigured by fire. Hoping that what killed him in life would affect him in death, he instructed the party to use fire attacks. Haza responded with a Fire Bolt, which although seemingly still doing less than normal damage to the incorporeal spirit, sent it into a frenzy. Spinning, turning, screaming, and totally unable to respond, the Lopper went crazy trying to avoid the burning flames that enveloped it’s body. Heartened by this, the group resumed their offense. Fire spells, arrows, and positive energy bursts filled the air, staggering and finally destroying the angry spirit.

After catching their breath and binding their wounds, they examined the room. A number of prisoner skeletons were found, some still inside their open cells, while others lay strewn on the floor. Deep inside the pit, a skeleton was found, along with second skull. The objects spied earlier included 120 gp, a broken masterwork heavy crossbow, a masterwork longsword, a magic heavy mace Nightwatch, a stone of alarm, and a ring of keys.

The group set off to search for Celaphelia, finding her back in the lift room, having used a Levitate spell to return to safety. “You said we were retreating,” she argued to Torquemada, who indeed had suggested that early in the combat when the party’s attacks seemed particularly ineffective. No one could argue that point.

The Mosswater Marauder

Now reunited, the group next headed to the west, finding a similar set of guardrooms and a portcullis-barred cell block named the “Reaper’s Hold.” Torquemada used a detect undead spell to discover the presence of four undead in the southern room, giving the group time to prepare their offense first for a change. The intervening door was booted open, revealing a macabre scene. This guardroom contained a single large table with two chairs
astride it and a single sagging cot pushed up against the eastern wall. Several battered cabinets lined the northern wall, with a few arrows and bits of chainmail lying scattered on the floor nearby, yet the most eerie sight was the three fractured skulls sitting on the table next to a heavy hammer. It looked as if someone has arranged the fragments of the skulls in some sort of pattern, perhaps making an attempt to construct a fourth skull from
the broken fragments of the trio on the table. Nearby, the leathery body of a long-dead dwarf, his wiry red hair and beard still strangely vibrant in death, lay slumped on the ground behind the table.

Suddenly, the skull fragments flew up into the air and formed three screaming severed skulls that immediately swept forward through the air to attack the group. They were prepared for this battle, however, and one skull was smashed immediately while the others were sorely damaged. Then, a ghostly apparition arose from the dwarven body nearby – a sobbing dwarf wielding a ghostly hammer as well as a ghostly skull that floated in the air nearby, its cranium laced with cracks and missing a knife-shaped shard of bone along the side. The Mosswater Marauder was continuing his search for the missing piece of his wife’s skull!

The dwarf spirit swept forward with a sob and smashed its spectral hammer into the head of Torquemada, who watched in horror as a shard of bone flew out of his skull after that mighty blow and spiraled into the nearby hovering skull, where it attempted to graft itself into the knife-shaped hole! However, the piece did not seem to fit in the hole, and dissipated into thin air, prompting the dwarf to attack once again.

Weapon attacks and magic spells did not seem to hurt this spirit, though it seemingly flinched each time one of the floating skulls was destroyed. Suddenly, Torquemada made use of a haunt siphon, and was surprised but gratified to see a burst of greenish light emerge, followed by the now-familiar sucking sound as the undead haunt was pulled into the item and contained. The siphon now swirled with greenish-white ectoplasm and the ghostly dwarf and skull were destroyed.

The room was searched, but the dwarven corpse now seemed harmless, and the bits and pieces of armor and weaponry were hardly worth keeping. However, the discovery of a secret door to the south led to a small dust-cloaked alcove containing several armor stands, weapon racks, and a locked wooden chest. The small treasure trove included the following:

6 suits of masterwork chainmail (300gp each)

6 suits of masterwork studded leather armor (175 gp each)

4 masterwork longswords (315 gp each)

4 masterwork heavy maces (312 gp each)

2 masterwork heavy crossbows (350 gp each)

120 crossbow bolts

A case of 10 +1 crossbow bolts

A magic wand

4 potions of cure moderate wounds

A rope of climbing

Taking some of the items found, the party retreated back to the upper level, having suffered extensive damage at the hands of the Lopper.

Having climbed back to the ground floor, the group made their way forward, discussing the idea of returning to town to rest. First though, Torquemada wished to speak with the ghost of Vesorianna, and the group made their way back to her room. She greeted the party warmly, remarking that two spirits were defeated, yet three remained – two upstairs and one down below. Torque had further questions regarding the Warden’s badge of office that she had requested they return to her, and she described it in detail, being a golden shield-shaped badge, about the size of a fist that he wore on his uniform. Realizing they still had not found the elusive badge, the party returned to the dungeons below, investigating the hallway to the south.

Once again, a guardroom and portcullis. This area showed significant fire damage, and the corresponding winch for the portcullis was twisted and melted, being unusable in its current condition. Attempts were made to lift and bend the thick steel bars, but the group was ultimately unsuccessful in bypassing the formidable barrier.

Returning to the west, the cell block was entered and searched. A number of skeletons were found, but nothing of worth. A door to the south led to what appeared to be a torture chamber, and the group entered to continue their investigations.

Numerous grisly tools of torment decorated this room, from cages to hanging chains along the walls to a stretching rack, a large wooden tank, and a fire pit in the middle of the room. To the east stood a grim iron maiden, the lid closed and presenting a stern decoration of a tormented woman upon its face. The broken, twisted skeleton of a human dressed in a tattered guard’s uniform lay upon the stretching rack in the middle of the room; the body was surrounded by several discarded knives, branding irons, and pliers. A large, bloodstained wicker basket sat at the head of the rack.

Ryszard sensed great evil in the room, both near the iron maiden and again near the rack. Moving forward to investigate the rack first, none were surprised when the basket’s lid flew open, but what came crawling out was indeed a surprise. For they were hands. Moving, living, hands. Unattached to any other limb, these gross perversions of life scurried forward on bent fingers, nails chittering on the stone flagstones like spider’s claws. With prodigious leaps, the animated hands jumped at the party, wrapping cold hard flesh around the throats of Torquemada and attempting to do the same to the others. Torquemada struggled to remove the crawling hand from his throat, as it dug deeply into his flesh, cutting off his air and making it impossible to speak. Finally, Ryszard was able to pluck the hand away, and Torque and Haza were able to hack the crawling digits to pieces.

Upon the rack was found the body of a hideously tortured man. The body had many broken bones, severed hands, dislocated hips and shoulders, a shattered jaw, and numerous long, thin needles had been driven into his ears, eye sockets, elbows, hips, and knees. In his mouth, a large golden badge had been wedged, clearly the instrument used to shatter his jaw. It was the Warden’s Badge of Office, as Vesorianna had described. And clearly, the man bound to the wrack was none other than the Warden himself. Torquemada gathered up the badge, vowing to return to lay the bones of the Warden to rest after the prison had been cleansed of evil.

Next came the iron maiden, and as Ryszard moved closer to it, he was shocked to see the iron door creak open and reveal it’s contents. Kendra! Kendra Lorrimor was trapped inside the iron maiden, her eyes wide in fear and desperation. Ryszard lunged forward but too late. The door slammed shut and the screams of fear turned to pain and agony. Ryszard fell to the ground, feeling a thousand sharp points pierce his skin simultaneously.

And just as quickly, it was over. The iron maiden stood empty and Ryszard was unharmed.

Moving away, the group discussed leaving and returning to Ravengro. Torquemada made a case for speaking with Vesorianna once again, and the group agreed. Torque spoke with the ghostly woman about her earlier comments on the weaknesses of the Five. She bade him to search the prisoner vault located to the southeast of her room, which the group verified as the storeroom they had investigated earlier. Bemused, Torque first led the group back to the southwest offices, remembering an old locked safe that he was unable to open previously, and hoping that the keyring of chains would provide a means to finally open it.

Of Locks and Keys and Treasure

As it was, a key was indeed found that fit the safe’s lock perfectly. Inside were found a number of outdated documents, along with:

502 gp

4 potions of cure moderate wounds

3 potions of lesser restoration

2 potions of remove disease

Finally, the group returned to the property room as once again searched. Ryszard had remarked earlier about one of the unusually shaped walls, and indeed discovered a hidden panel that opened into a small vault. Inside sat 5 tagged items, clearly once having belonged to the “special” prisoners:

A thick, leather-bound spellbook have become caked with mold. Labelled: “Hean Feramin aka The Splatter Man”.

The Piper of Illmarsh

Inspired by their finds, the group decided to venture upstairs before leaving. They took the stairway leading upstairs, finding themselves in a large hall. Wooden benches once lined this room, but several were now stacked in a jumble and others were overturned in disarray. Obviously weakened by the fire, the entire east wall had collapsed away, creating an unintended entryway to a wooden deck beyond. The view of the lake beyond would have been beautiful if the silence had not so eerie.

It was into this silence that the whirring of wings presaged the arrival of a handful of stirges, who immediately darted forward to probe at the unexpected feast of warm blood. As the group fought off the predatory insects, Ryszard was startled to hear a disembodied, mournful dirge playing while the battle ensued. Suddenly, he was there – the ghostly Piper of Illmarsh, playing on a silver flute, his music filling the paladin with fear. Blood began to flow from his neck, but not from any wounds caused by the stirges, unless they were ghostly ones. The others struggled to find the phantom piper, but a surge of skeletons came bursting from nearby cells, forcing the group to fight no only the incorporeal Piper, but the animated skeletons as well. As the battle continued, the Piper’s song began to wear on the poor bodies of the men, and Haza decided to see if he could fight the Piper’s music with one of his own. Taking the tarnished silver flute from his pack, he tried to play along with the Piper’s tune, and was rewarded by the sight of the ghostly apparition staggering himself. Haza continued, and suddenly started playing the Piper’s dirge in a frenzy. While Haza did not seem to have much experience with playing a flute, the music he now created could only be described as otherworldly. As a man possessed his fingers flew along the flute, blood starting to pool under his nails and in the corners of his mouth and eyes as the song continued. The Piper also writhed under the musical spell created by Haza, but as he twisted and gyrated, his form became more and more frayed, tearing apart as the dirge continued. Finally, in a burst of sound, the Piper seemed to explode into slowly fading fragments, and Haza was able to lower the blood-covered flute from his lips and drop it to the ground.

The Piper was dead. It was time to leave.

Gathering themselves, the group stumbled back down the stairs, leaving behind Harrowstone and returning to their refuge of Lorrimor House.

Calistril 20th, 4711

Speaking with the Spirits

Once again, the Sheriff demanded to know what was going on. Kendra was visibly upset, while Torquemada was seemingly confused about the entire situation. Accusations and recriminations were thrown about as the cold winter winds gusted about from on high. The Sheriff was losing patience with the proceedings, but Kendra took him aside and had a private discussion, which ended with the departure of the local constabulary. Kendra herself was still upset, and did not understand what had happened. As the group retreated into the warmth and protection of Lorrimor House, the pieces of the puzzle began to emerge. Torquemada’s last conscious memories were of using the spirit planchette down by the Harrowstone Memorial. He had been receiving disturbing replies when suddenly, next he knew, he was being pinned to the ground by Ryszard.

Remembering his own incident alone in the Restlands when he attempted to use the spirit planchette to communicate with Professor Lorrimor, Ryszard deduced that the spirit board was not useable without danger. Apparently use of the board left one susceptible to being “possessed” by the spirits you were attempting to contact. Where Ryszard had found himself standing in another part of the local graveyard, it was clear that in Torquemada’s case he not only walked away from the contact point without knowledge, but also attempted to attack the party and/or Kendra. Ryszard announced he was foreswearing use of the spirit board, and everyone agreed that it should not be used alone.

Calistril 21st, 4711

The Five

The next morning the party returned to the Memorial and found the spirit planchette where Torquemada had dropped it the night before. Gathering it up, they returned to the house where Torque announced his intention to return to the Harrowstone Prison offices to see what else he could uncover regarding the mysterious five prisoners. He had earlier made the connection between these prisoners and the local children’s Skipping Song, and wanted to delve further into the past concerning these criminals.

Traveling once again to the foreboding prison outside of town, the party entered the prison foyer cautiously, but there was no sign of the slamming door haunt that had so stymied the group in previous trips. Once inside, Torquemada dug into the prison records to see what could be found regarding the Five.

The group discussed their findings and decided to continue searching the old ruin. Moving further inward past already explored areas, a disturbing new room was found. This stark room contained a low stone bench against the north wall and a ruined desk to the west that sat under three narrow, barred windows. An old brass brazier lay on its side to the south, surrounded by several rusty branding irons. Moving to examine the iron further, the smell of burning flesh filled the air and the irons rose up, their tips glowing red hot as they sizzled through the air seeking the flesh of the living and causing everyone to frantically backpetal away from the hot metal. It was not Ryszard’s lucky day, however, and he howled as the hot metal burned into his face and neck, leaving a ferocious red scar that would later prove unaffected by healing magic.

After this brief flurry, the branding irons dropped to the ground with a clang, their tips no longer red hot, but cold and lifeless as they should always have been. Upon further examination, it was determined that the brands were all the same, and did probably indicate that all prisoners in Harrowstone were so treated upon their arrival.

With little else seemingly in the room, the group continued on to the next room, which appeared to be some sort of workshop. Tangled mounds of moth-eaten fabric sat on several wooden tables, each surrounded by workbenches. Various sewing tools— shears, needles, rolls of thread, boxes of chalk, and other objects lay scattered over the floor, while the arm of what appeared to be a skeleton protrudes from a stained heap of fabric to the west.

“Oh, Hell no!” stated Haza as he slammed the door shut.

“But there may be something important in here,” argued Torquemada, as he opened the door once again and entered the room full of sharp, pointy objects.

There was little to fear from flying implements, but almost as soon as Torquemada entered the room, another manifestation occurred – one of ominous import.

Vesorianna

Rising from the mound of moldering fabric covering the skeleton, a ghostly but beautiful young woman dressed in a tattered but lovely blue dress arose. In fact, much about the ghost was blue, including her hair, the tears that ran from her pale blue eyes, and the clouds of smoke that drifted from her lips when she spoke to the party, asking for their help.

The ghost – revealed as Vesorianna Hawkran, wife of Warden Lyran Hawkran – went on to describe the great evil building inside Harrowstone Prison that sought to escape the grounds, now that the spirit of her husband had been removed "by men and women in dark robes who spoke only in whispers” who came to Harrowstone not long ago and began to work strange magic around the building’s foundations.

Vesorianna spoke of the evil spirits of (coincidence?) 5 prisoners, all of whom were bound inside the prison walls even after death by the spirit of her husband, the late Warden Hawkran. She went on to explain that it was his force of will, so strong even after his death, that kept the spirits of the damned contained within the walls of the prison. However, now that his spirit had been removed by the stranger Whisperers, the unruly undead were striving to break out. It was only the waning will of Vesorianna keeping them under any control, and even as her will weakened, the leader of the original riot, the Splatter Man, was reaching out in an effort to destroy her. Following his M.O. in life, the Splatter Man was using his powers to spell out her name on the statue at Harrowstone Memorial. Once he finished spelling out her name, Vesorianna said that she would perish and the spirits trapped in the prison would be free to roam the earth.

Vesorianna beseeched the party for help, asking them to destroy the spirits of the Five. Torquemada asked why she didn’t herself move directly against them, and the spirit explained that when the riots occurred, she ran to be at her husband’s side. However, after seeing the smoke and fire coming from the dungeon, she was removed to this room by a number of prison guards. It was in this room that she died, and it was in this room that her spirit remained trapped ever since. While able to look out through the walls and move about the room freely, and could sense the spirits of the Five above and below her in the prison, she could do little more to assist the party. She did offer one final glimmer of hope, however. She asked for the group to find and return to her the badge of office held by her husband – it would be anathema to the spirits, as would any other objects that strongly represented their lives before death.

Armed with this new knowledge about the situation at the prison, and aware that time was not on their side, the group assured Vesorianna that they would do as she asked and left to seek out the Five spirits.

Vesorianna had mentioned that there were spirits in the upper and lower levels, but the party decided to continue reconnoitering the ground floor, making sure that no enemies remained behind to harass them further.

1st floor – Laundry, Bathrooms, and Storage goods!

Proceeding down the hallway, a laundry room was found, filled with washboards, metal buckets, and heaps of moldy clothing. A brief search of the room led to an encounter with an animated straitjacket, that rose from a pile of moldy clothes and tried to smother first Torquemada and then Ryszard, but the collection of linen and straps were no match for fine steel and puissant magics.

The next room investigated turned out to be a privy, much to Ryszard’s relief.

Onward around the ruins, the party finally returned to the auditorium where Ryszard has previously detected evil. The evil remained, and while the party tried to discern its source, the temperature in the room dropped precipitously. Torquemada deduced that this was an effect similar to the slamming door haunt encountered earlier, and used a haunt siphon to dispel the cold effect haunt.

Next, the room behind the auditorium was explored. A locked metal door proved to be too stout to knock open, so Torquemada was forced to disable the lock and gain entry, spying a A bizarre collection of antique goods resting upon wooden shelves that lined the room. Several of the items contained tiny tags with labels written in a careful script. While many of the items appeared to be normal personal effects once carried by the prisoner and surrendered upon being incarcerated in Harrowstone, a few choice items were uncovered in a quick search:

A set of masterwork thieves’ tools

A bronze war medallion from the Shining Crusade

An unframed Taldan painting of Stavian I

A set of a noblewoman’s silver hair clips

A masterwork punching dagger

A pouch containing a dozen masterwork shurikens

A masterwork silver hand axe

A wand of lesser restoration (12 charges).

With a few exceptions, most of the items were left behind, to be collected at a later date when a more thorough examination of the room’s contents would be possible.

Water and Fire

Finally, the group returned to the old guard post and the remains of the lift system within. The yawning black pit stretched beneath them, opening out into some kind of cavernous space before terminating in a pool of dark water. Torquemada volunteered to climb down, and setting up a rope, began the climb. Unfortunately, he slipped during his descent and fell into the cold dark water below.

Glancing around, Torque could see a cavernous chamber that may have once been an underground
cellblock, but it had long since collapsed. The crumbled walls were thick with mold and stained with soot, and heaps of fallen stones and charred wooden beams lined the area. Water dripped and seeped along the walls, collecting in the dark, murky pool in the middle of the room. To the north, the twisted remains of a wood and iron lift lay in a heap in a shallow portion of the pool. To the west, a partially blocked opening seemed to open up after
several feet into a dark but stable tunnel.

Torquemada struggled to swim to shore, but was stymied by the sudden attack of two ectoplasmic humans. His shouts of surprise and pain roused the group who began to make the descent as Torquemada fought off the undead attackers. Haza plummeted into the water and was unable to make any headway in the murky pond while Ryszard and Celaphelia were finally able to help Torquemada subdue the attacking monsters.

There was little else to discover in the cavern, so the western exit beckoned. Beyond it lay a large room. Four dark hallways exited from this large empty chamber, each striking out in one of the four directions of the compass, and each decorated with a soot-caked brass nameplate affixed to the ceiling just above the entrance. A rubble-choked stairway led up in the middle of the room, while ten skeletons dressed in scorched clothing lay on the ground.

The nameplates read as follows:

To the north lay “The Butchery.”

To the west lay “Reaper’s Hold.”

To the south lies “The Nevermore.”

To the east once stretched “Hell’s Basement.”

Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, the skeletons arose and attacked the party. What was not expected was when the skeletons burst into flame as the battle progressed. The group was sorely pressed, and it was only the holy power of Haza’s god that kept the undead from slaying the party outright. As it was, a bruised and battered group finally put down the monstrous undead and sought shelter to rest and catch their breath.

They retreated to the north, and found a portcullis and a nearby guard room. Unfortunately, it was not unoccupied, and the curious sight of a headless flaming skeleton armed and seemingly well-versed with a hand axe arose and assaulted the group. Once again, the party was hard-pressed, but finally managed to destroy the blasphemous being.

Retreating into the guard room, and barricading the door, the group set about resting for the night…

Calistril 20th, 4711

Back to the Prison

The next morning, the party awoken to discover that the night was uneventful. No crazy stirges or bloody statues awaited them this chilly morning, and after a fortifying breakfast, the group decided that the best course of action would be to return to Harrowstone prison and continue searching for clues.

Arriving at the prison in the early morning, this time it was decided to investigate the western balcony further in hopes of finding an alternate way inside. Solid stone steps led upward where a large, rectangular block of stone rested on this weather-beaten stone balcony. Ruined wooden benches lined the eastern wall under a row of tiny, barred windows above and a stout wooden door sat in the wall near the northern end of the balcony.

Moving forward to investigate the stone block, the party was surprised when a rusty scythe wielded by two skeletal hands arose from the debris and started slashing at everyone! Haza went down under a terrible blow, his arterial blood spraying and splattering through the air. Torquemada used the powers granted him by Iomedea, while Celaphelia’s powers were useless against this enemy. Ryszard fought valiantly, and finally the monstrous undead construct splintered and shattered into dust. Haza was patched up, and an attempt was finally made to open the stout door. However, even though Celaphelia enlarged Ryszard, the door proved to be too much to open.

Giving up in frustration, the party returned to the front door, but noticed that the balcony over the front entrance appeared to have a door leading inside also. Rather than face the haunted foyer, they opted to climb up to the balcony and try the second story door instead. Torque slowly clambered up the ruined entryway to the balcony proper, but Celaphelia noticed that the balcony’s main support beam was badly cracked and did not appear safe. She shouted up to Torque but while they spoke about the issue, the very thing they feared happened. The main support snapped and the balcony collapsed on the party below. Everyone was a bit dinged up from the collapse, but no one suffered any serious injury. Unfortunately, the door above was still intact, and even as Torque again climbed up to the second story, it was clear he would not have enough leverage to force the door should it become necessary. As it was, although Torque was able to ensure the door was not locked, it still would not budge, and that route inside was also abandoned.

Forced to go the straight route again, the party reassembled and entered the haunted foyer once again.

The Haunt

The front doors stood closed, but Torquemada shoved them open with a shoulder bash, and the entrance hall lay before them. One by one they entered, looking around at the other doors leading from the room. A quick glance behind revealed that the front doors were mysteriously closed…

Finally, Haza tried to open the northernmost door, and as last time, it burst into flames and slammed shut in his face. Burning faces screamed seemingly from within the wood itself, and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Torquemada decided it was time to confront the spirits behind this haunt, and used the brass planchette spirit board to question the haunted spirits, but received no information particularly helpful for his efforts. Haza racked his memories for an answer to this curse, and remembered an old tale in the seminary about “haunts.” Haunts were hazardous regions created by unquiet spirits that react violently to the presence of the living. The exact conditions that cause a haunt to manifest vary from case to case—but haunts always arise from a source of terrific mental or physical anguish endured by living, tormented creatures.

Haza decided that the best course of action would be to confront this unholy terror with holy power. Remembering some old rituals intended for laying the undead to rest, he started a ceremony, sprinkling holy water around the door and upon the doors, while chanting prayers to Sarenrae to banish this evil. Ten minutes or so later, the room palpably felt “lighter” and Haza attempted to open the north door one more time. This time, as the portal opened wide, nothing happened. The haunt had been destroyed!

The group entered the prison proper again, passing through the hallways leading to the collapsed basement stairs and the once spider-infested chapel. Retracing their steps, they continued further north, with Celaphelia investigating a secured blocked door, while Torquemada found an entrance to what appeared to be the prison’s infirmary.

In the infirmary, several moldy cots lay strewn around this room, while doors to smaller, more private sleeping cells hang askew to the west. Old ragged linens and medical supplies littered the floor, and ruined furniture lay broken in pieces around the room, as if shattered against the walls.

Searching through the debris, the group found a number of useful items:

As they gathered up the abandoned supplies and started to leave the room, a ghostly figure appeared in the midst of the party. Shrieking, Ryszard fled the room heading for the prison entrance, while Haza also ran for his life. Undaunted by the evil spirit, Torquemada and Celaphelia fought against the undead spirit, striking out with magical power and hexes, stymying the poltergeist as it turned invisible and continued to telekinetically assault the group. Ryszard and Haza recovered from their fear, and Haza returned to help defeat the spirit as Ryszard finally rejoined the group in the infirmary.

The Ember Maw

Moving to the northeast, the party entered a broken section of the prison. A huge stone furnace dominated this room, large enough for a man to climb inside. An ancient fire had burned away the entire east wall the room, providing a panoramic, if eerie, view of the lake beyond. That same lake had gradually expanded into the room, flooding its eastern half.

Approaching the old furnace, Ryzsard was able to make out Aa soot-caked copper plaque over the furnace entrance that read “Ember Maw.” Suddenly, the furnace front seemed to melt, and a leering skull of metal and bars formed, as a huge roaring fire burst into being inside and a long tendril of fire shot from the metal mouth enveloping Ryszard in a sheath of burning fire!

The party leapt into action, but it proved almost impossible to physically damage the metal furnace, but the party’s magic seemed to take a toll. The burning tongue lashed out at Ryszard again, and he was forced to take cover as the attacks continued. Finally, the mystical powers of the party were successful, and the room went quiet as the furnace resumed it’s normal shape. Torquemada examined the furnace, but only ashes were found inside of it.

However, Ryzsard still could detect evil lurking within the furnace, and investigated further. He found a number of human bones, curiously hot to the touch, even though the furnace and ashes inside it were now stone-cold. Using tools, he was able to retrieve the bones, and soon an entire human skeleton lay on the floor. Pouring holy water upon them, a great cloud of steam arose, and a flickering darkness seemed to rise from the bones to dissipate in the air.

The Way Down

Even though they were now battered, bruised and running low on energy, the party decided to continue onward. Entering a southern room, they found a room where the northeast wall had also partially fallen, revealing the dark, murky waters of the pond outside. Moldering training dummies and other similar equipment hinted that this room may have once been a training area for the guards. In the northeast part of the room, the floor around a dark, jagged hole was surrounded by black scorch marks.

The room seemed deserted, and the faint smell of old ashes drifted up from the pit. As the party peered over the edge into the darkness below, three flaming skulls rose from the pit and attacked! They slammed into the group, setting clothing ablaze as they pummeled the already weary party. As they mustered a final effort, the skulls were smashed to bits, but the group was even more vulnerable than before. Now they decided it would be prudent to return to the town and rest up.

The quickest way seemed to be a door to the southwest, which should have led back to the foyer. Upon opening it, however, another room was revealed. Several rows of wooden benches, all spotted with mold and sagging with neglect, faced a stage walled off from the rest of the room by a wall of iron bars. To all appearances, the empty room seemed to be some sort of auditorium, but Ryszard again sensed evil lurking in the supposed empty room. Another door led to the southwest again, and taking that route, the party returned to the foyer, and thence left the prison and returned to town.

Revelations

It was still afternoon when the party returned to town, and they decided to rest up and continue to research what they could about the obviously haunted prison.

Ryszard set off to question the garrulous Councilman Gharen Muricar again. This time, he learned much of the ways of drinking coffee and making pastries, but as far as town information was only able to learn that the Warden’s wife’s name was Vesorianna Hawkran.

Ryszard had an encounter on his way back from the Councilman’s, however, that shook him to his core. A couple of little girls were jumping ropes, and were singing a children’s song. It was the words that attracted Ryszard’s attention though, and he was able to convince the girls to recite the words of the Skipping Song to him.

Meanwhile, Torquemada had discovered some interesting information in the Church of Pharasma. He had requested an audience with Father Grimburrow, and was granted one. The old man seemed to be quite knowledgeable about the area, but did not have answers to all the questions that Torque posed. He did offer up use of the Church’s records, which while not as detailed about the prison as the records in the prison offices would have been, did reveal a number of important facts about Harrowstone:

Harrowstone was built in 4594. Ravengro was founded at the same time as a place where guards and their families could live and that would produce food and other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but left most of the stone structure above relatively intact. The prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months after the tragedy — the statue that still stands on the riverbank just outside of town.

Most of the hardened criminals sent to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that era were carried out. The fire that caused the tragedy was, in fact, a blessing in disguise, for the prisoners had rioted and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately prior to the conflagration. It was only through the self-sacrifice of Warden Lyran Hawkran and 23 of his guards that the prisoners were prevented from escaping—the guards gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro.

Finally, at the time Harrowstone burned, five particularly notorious criminals had recently arrived at the prison. While the commonly held belief is that the tragic fire began accidentally after the riot began, in fact the prisoners had already seized control of the dungeon and had been in command of the lower level for several hours before the fire. Warden Hawkran triggered a deadfall to seal the rioting prisoners in the lower level, but in so doing trapped himself and nearly two dozen guards. The prisoners were in the process of escaping when the panicked guards accidentally started the fire in a desperate attempt to end the riot.

No further information seemed to be available in the Church concerning Harrowstone prison. so Torquemada returned to Lorrimor house.

Torquemada vs. The World

However, Torquemada was not to be denied. Thinking back on the recent desecrations at the Harrowstone Memorial, he decided to use the Spirit Planchette and “converse” with the spirits in that area. Leaving the house, he walked down the river to the statue and began to use the spirit board.

Concentrating on the board for an average of 7 minutes seemed to give good results, so Torque focused his thoughts and soon asked his first question.

“Are you Vesorianna Hawkran?”

NO was the response on the spirit board.

“Are you Warden Hawkran?”

NO once again.

“What do you want?”

KILLHER spelled out the brass planchette.

What happened next was hazy and dim as Torque would later recall.

Back at the house, Celaphelia answered a knock at the door to see Torquemada standing there. Suddenly, his weapon was in hand and he was attacking her. Celaphelia tried to defend herself, and Haza heard the commotion upstairs and came to assist. He saw the two fighting, and Torquemada screamed that “she has betrayed us!” Haza was not sure what was going on, but Celaphelia dropped her weapon, yielding to Torquemada. However, he continued to press his attack, and seemed out for blood. Around this time Ryszard returned from his coffee break and attempted to grapple Torquemada. While the two burly warriors struggled ineffectually against each other, Celaphelia disappeared back into the house while Haza conjured create water on the combatants, trying to get them to break up. Finally, Torquemada was somewhat subdued, but then it was discovered that their charge, Kendra Lorrimor had disappeared along with the witch Celaphelia. Torque again starting ranting against her, but Haza was not to be fooled, and would not agree to allow Ryszard to let him go. Torque’s struggles to free himself continued, when along the road from town a number of figures came running.

It was Celaphelia and Kendra and Sheriff Benjan Caeller with a couple of his deputies, all demanding to know what in the Nine Hells was going on.

Torquemada looked around in surprise, wondering aloud what he was doing here and why was Ryszard sitting on his chest holding him down…

Calistril 19th, 4711 – continued

Missing Persons

Limping back into town, the party arrived outside of Lorrimor house, only to discover that the front door was ajar. Cautiously entering the house, they called out to Kendra Lorrimor, but there was no response. A quick search through the house revealed that she was not in the home, however, Torquemada noticed a sheet of paper left on a table. The note was written by Kendra and said that she was going to be visiting The Laughing Demon this evening, and that she would see them there. The party quickly hustled outside and headed towards the town square and thence to the tavern.

Arriving at the tavern, they were surprised to see it warm and bustling with activity. Kendra was at the bar talking to the owner/barkeep Zokar Elkarid, while a number of townspeople were sitting at tables talking. A hush fell over the bar as the party entered, but as they bellied up to the bar, conversations resumed, albeit more quietly than before.

Ryzard spotted a number of men who were a part of the mob scene from the other day, and sent over a round of beers. The men seemed bewildered, but respectfully raised their glasses in a toast before huddling back together and speaking animatedly amongst themselves.

Torquemada decided to return to the Lorrimor house, and set off on his own, while Ryszard and Haza relaxed with a few drinks. Torque was passing through the town square when he heard the sound of soft footsteps behind him. Thinking quickly, he cast light on a stone nearby to act as a distraction, and set off behind the nearest row of houses, taking a wide arc to the Lorrimor place.

As he stood in the cold fog across from the house, he was satisfied that he had not been followed. He stepped out into the road, and felt a touch upon his shoulder. An otherworldly chill flashed through his body and he slumped to the ground…

Season of the Witch

Ryszard finally got Kendra’s attention and asked her why she had left the door unlocked. She replied that she hadn’t, but had a copy of the house key for the party since they were acting as her guardians for the next month. Ryszard took the key and told Kendra to stay put, as he gathered Haza and set off for the house.

The first thing they noticed upon heading out through the square was a strange glow coming from the road leading to the south. Upon investigating, they found a stone enchanted with a light spell. Yet nothing else seemed out-of-place or unusual, so they continued onward towards the house.

The Lorrimor house soon stood before them, the front door thrown wide open, and a eerily ambient pile of ooze laying in the road outside the entrance. Haza identified the goop as ethereal ectoplasm, a sign that something otherworldly was occurring. Poking their heads inside the open door, they called out to Torquemada, but there was no response. Outside, however, they found a slime trail leading from the ooze pile around the side of the house and down into the nearby Ravengro Creek. After a search of the area, no other signs were found, and they reentered the house.

To find a fox sitting on the stairs staring at them.

The fox winked and threw its head back over its shoulder indicating the upstairs, and turned and ascended the steps!

Haza was incredulous, but followed the small canid upstairs, only to find it had disappeared. Once again the fox’s head appeared, this time from Kendra’s room, and it once again winked at Haza before it disappeared inside.

Moving to Kendra’s room, an astonishing scene unfolded. The fox was sitting on a nearby dresser, calmly gazing at the party. Torquemada lay on Kendra’s bed, covered in ectoplasmic ooze and unmoving. And an elven woman with long, flowing white hair stood nearby, clad in leathers and carrying staff, sword, and bow.

“I found him this way,” stated the elf as Ryszard and Haza held their weapons at the ready. She went on to explain that she had found him lying in the street outside covered in this ooze, and had seen a strangely luminous and oddly unsolid humanoid moving around behind the house before it disappeared from view. She had checked Torquemada, found that he was alive but unconscious, and brought him inside to this room.

Ryszard had by now detected no evil upon her, and introductions were made. The elven woman called herself Celaphelia, and stated that she had received a summons to come here to the funeral of an old acquaintance, Petros Lorrimor. The messenger had been told that Celaphelia had passed away, and had returned with that message. However, she was clearly alive and anxious to meet up with Kendra and attend the funeral. After informing her that the funeral was two days prior, the group decided to return to The Laughing Demon and escort Kendra home.

Kendra was still at the Demon, and was quite pleased to make Celaphelia’s acquaintance. Two troubadours were now playing flute & lute for the decreased crowd while the party prepared to leave and retire for the night.

Suddenly, over Haza’s shoulders the rest of the group saw two winged creatures swoop down from the rafters above and start to fly erratically in the air above the minstrels… seeming to eerily keep time with music!

Stirges!

By this time the rest of the tavern had noticed the flying creatures and started to flee. The bards stopped playing to stare at the sight of the dancing stirges when suddenly they stopped flapping about and quickly darted towards the party members, their wicked probosci seeking blood! One attached itself to Torquemada while the other lashed out at Haza. Celaphelia moved to protect Kendra while casting a hex at one of the beasts. Torquemada fought off the insectile monster but was rapidly losing blood to the bloating beast. Haza was also in trouble now as the second stirge plunged itself into his neck, but Ryszard was there to pull off the monster as it struggled to free itself from his grasp. Suddenly, Torquemada slew one stirge as Ryszard finished squeezing the life from the other. Celaphelia and Haza healed the party of their wounds, but the travails of the past day and evening had proven too much for Torquemada, who needed assistance to stagger his way back to Lorrimor house for much needed bed rest.

Calistril 20th, 4711

A Long-winded Encounter

The night passed uneventfully, and in the morning, Haza decided to tend to Torquemada’s wounds for the day, giving him a better chance at recovering his strength for tomorrow’s exertions. Kendra and Celaphelia had made arrangements to meet up with Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, and Ryszard wanted to investigate the strange happening around town and at the prison.

Once again the town was abuzz with activity at the Harrowstone Memorial. Another desecration had occurred during the night, this time with someone spelling out the letter “E” in blood on the statue. The local sheriff, Benjan Caeller was on the scene with his deputies, and it was clear little additional information was to be gained at this time.

In the meantime, Celaphelia had been able to identify the strange runes that Haza had copied from the prison’s foundation – they were in Varisian, which Celaphelia spoke fluently, as a native from that wild land of Varisia. The words were invocations of power to the spirits, while amongst those a single name stood out – one Lyran Hawkran.

Ryszard had made his way to the center of town and ducked into The Laughing Demon, and struck up a conversation with Zokar. Ryszard was looking for someone who might have been living in the town during the time of the prison riot, and Zokar suggested checking with the town’s smith, a dwarf woman named Jorfa; or with one of the older townspeople, such as Councilman Gharen Muricar.

Ryszard set off for the Ravengro Forge and met the monosyllabic Jorfa. Although Ryszard attempted to be as diplomatic as possible, the tight-lipped dwarf did not reveal any useful information, and seemed happy to see him leave in a huff.

A trip across town to the home of Gharen Muricar yielded better results, but at a price. Hours passed as the older man regaled Ryszard with tales of his youth, his middle-age, his old age, and his venerable years with no sign of stopping. Ryszard could barely get a word in edgewise, but was told that the Ravengro Town Hall held all sorts of records about the prison and the town itself. Grateful for any excuse to leave, Ryszard said his goodbyes and went to the Town Hall, only to find it tightly closed and shut up.

Meanwhile, Kendra and Celaphelia kept their appointment with Councilman Hearthmount, who grudgingly allowed the allegedly deceased Celaphelia to claim her portion of the estate left to her with the passing of Professor Lorrimor.

Back at Lorrimor house, Haza spent the day tending to the well-being of Torquemada, while doing some research on Harrowstone prison. Unfortunately, amongst the hundreds of books, ledgers, scrolls, and journals, Haza was only able to glean the most basic information about the prison:

Harrowstone is a ruined prison— partially destroyed by a fire in 4661,

The building has stood vacant ever since.

The locals suspect that it’s haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place.

The party members regathered at the house, and made plans to return to Harrowstone in the morning.

Calistril 19th, 4711

Monumental Desecrations

As the party awoke the next morning, they were greeted by Kendra who was in state over an event that had occurred during the night. A memorial statue on the outskirts of town had been defaced – splattered with what appeared to be blood! Kendra was distraught, and the party decided it would be best to check out the scene.

Located along the Ravengro Creek, Ravengro’s most distinctive landmark is a 25-foot-tall, moss-covered stone statue that overlooks the river. The statue depicts a proud, muscular human man dressed in leathers and wielding a truncheon—a depiction of Warden Hawkran. A total of 25 names – presumably the guards who died in the fire – are chiseled into the statue’s stone base. Splattered over the base in what appeared to in fact be blood, was a large letter “V”. There were a number of townsfolk standing by checking out the scene, so Ryszard started following the creek bed in search for clues. About 50 yards from the statue, he discovered an exsanguinated rat, but left the body where he found it.

Reconvening back at the Lorrimor house, discussion ensued as to what the next steps were to unravel what was happening in Ravengro. Once again consulting the Professor’s journal, it was decided that the remains of Harrowstone prison might shed some light into the mysterious happenings around town.

Harrowstone

The party followed partially overgrown track that led from the southern edge of town, winding around the base of the hill and heading up to end in front of the remains of Harrowstone prison itself.

Harrowstone’s grounds were contained within a crumbling stone wall, the eastern portion of which has fallen away into a huge pond. The stark, sagging roof of its central structure was visible through a large gap in the surrounding wall and old stone towers, their wooden roofs collapsed and crumbling walls thick with ivy, extended a further ten feet above the twenty foot- high walls.

A sagging wood and metal gate set between a pair of stone guard towers once barred entrance into Harrowstone, but the gates now hung negligently open, creaking softly in what wind touched the ruined bars. Striding forward, Ryszard led the party through the open gates, but stopped suddenly in his tracts. His eyes darted from side to side as he suddenly wheeling around and starting running away from the prison, a breathless moan of fear and panic emanating from his open mouth.

The party found Ryszard down the path, hunched down in the dirt trying to regain his breath. He explained that he suddenly was overwhelmed by the feeling that his skin was on fire and that he was unable to breathe, as if he were stuck underground, or pinnned underneath something heavy and immovable.

Ryszard said he felt well enough to continue, and so the party once again ascended to the top of the hill. This time, the gate passage invoked no fears in Ryszard, and the group entered the prison yard. A curtain wall and towers ringed the prison proper, and to the front of the structure, as a small brick manor house stood overgrown with thick sheets of gray-green ivy.

Recalling the Professor’s words in his journals, everyone examined the nearby buildings, checking the foundations for signs of the strange runes spied by the Professor, but nothing was found.

The Manor House of Death!

Setting their sights on the nearby manor house, Torquemada and Ryszard decided it seemed peculiarly interesting, and against Haza’s advice, decided to investigate the badly sagging structure. Torquemada entered through the front door, but even his impetuousness would not let him proceed far before the loose flooring dissuaded him. Luckily, there was still a bad entrance, and Torque entered there while Ryszard ascended a set of stairs to the second floor. The rooms were filled with destroyed, ruined, and rotten furniture and housewares, but nothing seemingly of value or interest. Then Ryszard plunged through the floor, precipitating a huge collapse of the section of the house he stood in. A section that unfortunately ended up on top of Torquemada, burying him in rubble. He was bruised, but not seriously injured, although it took a bit of time to extract him from the debris.

Finally deciding that there was indeed nothing of interest in the manor house, the party turned their attention to the prison itself.

Harrowstone Prison

A two-story stone building loomed in the center of the prison grounds. Ivy and moss clung tenaciously to the walls, while above the wooden shingles of the roof were often missing entirely, exposing the wooden rafters of the upper structure to the sky. Here and there, leering stone gargoyles perched on the eaves, once functioning as drainspouts and decorations but now seemed almost to serve a more ominous role of sentinels. Many of these stone decorations had crumbled away and lay in ruined piles on the soggy ground below. Windows in the building’s facade were narrow and blocked by grills of rusty iron bars. Stone columns supported a slumping wooden balcony over the building’s wooden front doors, both of which hung askew and revealed dark glimpses of chambers within.

Slipping inside the front doors, they could see that this was once a wide hall flanked by a pair of waiting rooms, but the foyer to Harrowstone now lay in ruins. With little left to hold up the ceiling, the wooden beams above sagged dramatically while the wall to the north contained a large pair of oaken doors.

Passing through those doors, a second foyer was revealed. Streaks of mold stained the walls of this foyer, and the floor below was a thick, gray carpet of fungal growth, while sturdy wooden doors beckoned from every wall.

Choosing the western door, Torquemada had to put his shoulder into it, as it appeared swollen and stuck in place. With a slam, the door flew open, but just as quickly came swinging back into Torquemada’s face! The door burst into flames while faces screamed deep within the wood, faces contorted into agony as their flesh burned. As the party watched in horror, all could see that the remaining doors were also on fire and roiled with haunted faces also!

Finally, the flames started to ebb, and the smell of burning flesh receded as the tortured faces fades from view. Haza attempted to open the north door, but to no avail. Again the door burst into flames as screams erupted from the wood. There seemed to be no way out.

Haza then decided to draw upon the power of Sarenrae for assistance, and summoned a burst of positive energy that flooded the room in a brilliant and soothing burst of sunshine. Quickly trying the western door again, they were able to pass through unscathed, and thus continued their search of the prison.

What followed were a number of small offices, containing scrolls, books, notes, and ledgers detailing the activities and day-to-day operations of the prison. While there was a significant amount of files and records, nothing seemed out of the ordinary or interesting beyond what guards were on duty, how much flour was being consumed, and what prisoners were being held. All in all, nothing beyond normal business records was found.

The last room in this section appeared to be more of an administrator’s office, being a spacious room that smelled of mildew and rot. A long desk and chair sat to the south, while to the northwest a narrow alcove contained a closed safe. Thick layers of dust covered everything in sight. Torquemada examined the safe, but quickly determined that it was locked and beyond his ability to open. The party examined a nearby latrine, but quickly realized they had run out of rooms to explore and would have to backtrack to the haunted foyer.

Once again, the foyer proved to be a thorn in the party’s side, as indeed the burning doors were once again active. Another positive energy burst enabled them to quickly open the north door and proceed though.

The Spiders’ Web

Beyond was a series of corridors and rooms. Torquemada picked one door that led to what appeared to be a small chapel but was now draped with thick sheets of what appeared to be cobwebs, while the rest of the party continued through another door. Suddenly, Torquemada cried out and the party came rushing into the chapel, only to find Torquemada lying on the floor, while 3 giant crab spiders sank their fangs into his flesh! The spiders turned to face the new threat and blades were drawn. A long struggle ensued, but the giant vermin were slain as Torquemada slumped against a wall. Poisoned!

Nonetheless, the group continued on, investigated another nearby room, that was in a shambles. Old.wooden benches lay in ruins along the walls, while rusty chains and bits of rotten rope lay scattered on the floor. As the party entered the room, with a rattle of rusty metal, a pair of manacles suddenly rose into the air and flew forward to attack Torquemada. The shackles slammed against him, attempting to latch to his wrists as the chain beat and whipped through the air. Ryszard found another chain attached to the wall, and clamped it to the animated shackles, preventing it from reaching the men and allowing Torquemada to use his magic to finally quiet the haunted chain.

Weary, poisoned, and running low on magic, the party decided to call it a day and retreat. No haunted doors blocked their path through the foyer this time, and soon the group was outside again. Only an hour or so of time had passed, or so everyone had thought, but outside the afternoon sun was low in the sky. Before leaving, they decided to look once more for the runes mentioned by the Professor, and this time were able to find some faintly drawn runes smeared with blood(?) running along the foundation stones just above the ground. The runes were written in a strange language, and appeared to circumscribe the entire foundation of the prison itself. Haza copied down the runes for later study, and turned to leave.

As they did, the sun dipped below the horizon and dusk fell. Again, minutes had turned into hours, and quickly the group left Harrowstone and made their way back to Ravengro and the safety of Lorrimor house.

Calistril 18th, 4711

Trouble on the Dreamwake

Another dreary and cold day dawned in the small town of Ravengro, located in the county of Canterwall in the Immortal Principality of Ustalev. A small party huddled in the early morning mists outside of the local graveyard, known as the Restlands, for the funeral of Petros Lorrimor, retired professor from the University of Lepidstadt.

After some brief introductions, the party members volunteered along with Zokar to act as pallbearers, and the funeral procession started moving into the Restlands. Moving along down the path known as the Dreamwake and around a corner to the Eversleep, the procession was suddenly blocked by a half-dozen men.

Kendra stepped forward demanding to know, “What is the meaning of this?”

One of the men responded: “That’s far enough. We been talking and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin into the ground here!”

“What are you talking about?” Kendra cried out. “I arranged this with Father Grimburrow here…”

“You don’t get it, woman. We won’t have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now.”

“Necromancy? Are you really that ignorant?”

With that, the bulk of the men rushed forward, swinging rakes, hoes, pitchforks, sickles, and hammers with ill intent.

Luckily, Torquemada had already started to lower the coffin containing the body of the good Professor and had motioned to the others to do so too, enabling them to draw weapons to meet the sudden rush of the angry mob.

A sickle slashed through the air with all the muscle of a farmer behind it, but the blow was too hard and he stumbled by Haza, slipping in the dirt. Torquemada countered an equally powerful but inept blow from a hoe, while Ryszard stepped forward and laid out one of the mob with a single punch. The party quickly realized that these men, while strong and angry, were no match for them. A couple more non-lethal blows and throws left the rest of the mob lying in the dirt or running away from the scene. Ryszard grabbed up one of the unconscious men and shook him away, demanding to know who was behind this vile act. The farmer quickly offered up the name of the now-missing mob leader, one Gibs Hephenus.

Now that the mob had dispersed, the procession was able to make their way to the graveside service for Professor Lorrimor. There were no more distractions as Father Grimburrow led the short ceremony, with Kendra and the party members each having a chance to say a few words about their father, friend, or mentor.

Upon the conclusion of the service, Councilman Hearthmount approached Kendra and the party, telling them that he required their presence at the reading of Professor Lorrimor’s Will. He arranged to meet everyone in a hour at the Lorrimor house, and departed. Kendra then invited the party members to wait at her house whilst everyone waited for the return of Councilman Hearthmount.

The Lorrimor house was a small two-storied home near the center of town. As promised, an hour later, Councilman Hearthmount was knocking on the front door, and quickly assembled the participants in the study for the reading of the The Last Will and Testament of Petros Lorrimor.

Books and Secrets

After the reading, Hearthmount quickly said his goodbyes, as Kendra retrieved the chest of books that the Professor had entrusted to the party’s care. Opening up the oak & iron chest revealed 5 books:

Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye – The rich purple cover contains a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center. The book’s covers are rimmed in polished steel and clasped with a small but intricate lock, the keyhole of which appears to be for a key with a strange, triangular shaft. The key was nowhere to be found.

On Verified Madness – This jet-black book is a treatise on aberrations and other entities found on Golarion that possess remote ties to the Dark Tapestry, the name given to the dark places between the stars in the night sky.

Serving Your Hunger – This text is a copy of one of several unholy books sacred to the goddess Urgathoa. Lorrimor’s notations liberally sprinkle the margins

The Umbral Leaves – This lexicon is a translation into Common of the unholy book of Zon-Kuthon

Also included was a newer book, whose leather cover bore the phrase “Read me now!” This was found to be the Professor’s journal. The party discovered a number of Circled Entries in the Professor’s Journal, which led them to the belief that the Professor’s death may not have been accidental as it had first seemed.

At this point, Kendra asked the party to help her run a few errands, which took the party to the nearby tavern, The Laughing Demon. Ryszard inquired, none to kindly, about the whereabouts of Gib, while also hiring a guard to watch over the grave of Professor Lorrimor for the next 3 days.

Return to the Restlands

Later that evening, the party decided to follow up on one of the notes in the Professor’s journal – an entry suggesting that a cache of tools to defend against spirits had been hidden in the Restlands by the Temple of Pharasma – The Lady of Graves a number of years prior.

The crypt was found in the northeast corner of the Restlands, near the junction of the paths known as the Eversleep and the Black Path. The crypt itself is a freestanding granite
mausoleum, the roof of which is decorated with a pair of leering gargoyle statues. A single stone door with a rusty looking lock sat in the mausoleum’s south facade, but an examination of the lock by Torquemada revealed that the lock is broken, its clasp melted by acid and then put back into place so that to casual observation the lock appears intact.

Entering within, a flight of stone steps led down into the cold earth to a large crypt lined with empty niches. It appeared that no one has been into this chamber for several decades, but a series of tracks were found in the dust and dirt of the floor. The party followed the faint line of tracks to a single large sarcophagus that sits in the deepest part of the crypt. As the group struggled to remove the lid of the sarcophagus, suddenly a pair of giant centipedes came scurrying out of small holes in the walls, savagely attacking the group. Luckily, the vermin were no match for the group and soon lay in twitching pieces on the cold stone floor.

To the victors go the spoils, as the sarcophagus was finally opened to reveal a trove of items:

a thin darkwood case decorated with an image of scarab with a single eye glaring from its back. Inside this case were a brass spirit planchette and 4 iron and glass vials containing tiny, churning clouds of vapor. (magical)

The party retrieved the items and retraced their steps back to Lorrimor house to plan their next move.

An Invitation to a Funeral

Dear Friend of Petros Lorrimor,

Know that as of today, Toilday the 1st of Calistril, in the year of 4711 in Absalom Reckoning, that Professor Petros Lorrimor has passed into the embrace of the Lady of Graves. Per his a priori funeral instructions, the Goode Professor had requested your presence at his funeral, to be held in the Restlands of Ravengro, on Fireday the 18th of Calistril.

As you have been named as a beneficiary of Professor Lorrimor, it is imperative that you make haste in your travel preparations. Funds have been included in this messenger parcel to facilitate expedient travel arrangements.

Please accept my sympathies for your loss.

In sincerest trust,
Councilman Vashian Hearthmount,
Town of Ravengro
County of Canterwall,
Ustalev